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BETSY HALE SUCCEEDS 







“Jimmy Delaney! Where’s Your Camel?” 






BETSY HALE 
SUCCEEDS 


By 

PEMBERTON GINTHER 

ii 

Author of The Miss Pat Series , etc. 



o 

> * * 
> > 

i •* 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY THE AUTHOR 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1923, by 

The John C. Winston Company 

PRINTED IN U. 8. A. 





SEP 24 ’23 


©C1A760021 

1 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Letter from France. ... 11 

II. Amiee Arrives. 27 

III. First Impressions. 42 

IV. Getting Under Way. 56 

V. Betsy Does Her Best. 70 

VI. Amiee and Her Garden. 90 

VII. The Doctor’s Verdict. 101 

VIII. Jimmy’s Joyful Entry. 116 

IX. ; Amiee Takes a Ride. 131 

X. The Road to Alandale. 142 

XI. A Trying Interval. 158 

XII. Amiee Tells Her News. 176 

XIII. Mac and the Parsley Bed . 191 

XIV. Major Gordon’s Letter.215 

XV. Betsy Hears Two Pieces of 

News. 229 

XVI. Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas 

Gifts. 241 


( 7 ) 




















ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Jimmy Delaney! Where’s Your 
Camel?”. Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“Do You Like Living Here?”. 48 

A Stepping-stone Was Missing_ 156 

Lucy Had Just Brought in the Tray, 
and They Clustered About It ... 233 


( 9 ) 






















Betsy Hale Succeeds 


CHAPTER I 


The Letter from France 


T 


HE long, pleasant summer was over. 
The fields and forest trees were still 


green, but the goldenrod flamed by 
every wayside and the dogwood hung out gay 
banners of red to the quickening breezes. 
The summer was over. 

Betsy Hale, coming out of the post office on 
her way home from the library, stuffed the 
letters in her sweater pocket, tucked the two 
books more firmly under her arm, and ran 
lightly down the store steps out into the mel¬ 
low autumn sunshine. She had hardly 
glanced at the letters, for her whole mind was 
on the books which she had just gotten from 
the library. 

“I’m glad tomorrow will be Sunday,” she 
thought happily. “I’ll have lots of time to 


(ID 



12 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


read. It’s really a blessing that Philip is 
away just now and that Selma is going over 
to Highville for the day. I ought to be able 
to manage to get through with one of the 
books by Monday. I wonder which I’ll 
start with?” 

She stopped in the road for a moment as 
she shifted the volumes to examine them 
more closely, * The blue-covered “ Children of 
Compeigne” looked very inviting, but after 
glancing through the red-backed <c Recon¬ 
struction Work in France” she chose it. 
The pictures of rebuilt villages, and tiny 
clusters of portable houses, of reclaimed 
battle-fields appealed to her more strongly 
than the pictureless little blue book. 

“I’ll read you first,” she told the red book, 
as she tucked it again under her arm. “Then 
I’ll tell Selma all about it, and we can look 
over the pictures together at recess. She 
won’t care much about the reading, but she’ll 
love the pictures.” 

As she started off again, she cast an upward 
glance over her shoulder. It was a habit she 
had whenever she passed that corner, and 
although it had been a habit for some months, 



The Letter from France 


13 


she never did it without a little thrill, remem¬ 
bering all that it had meant to her. 

The big flag was floating serenely against 
the hazy blue of the afternoon sky, its bright 
folds lifting and falling gently on the breeze, 
its starry field shining out bravely and its 
very cords and rigging standing out clearly 
in the golden sunshine. 

“It’s always the same,” thought Betsy 
ardently. “I believe it’s the most beautiful 
thing in the whole world.” 

Once again, as in that day in the early 
summer, she felt the rush of a great desire 
within her. She pressed the two inspiring 
books close to her quickly beating heart. 
A confused impulse toward some newer ser¬ 
vice to the flag that might find its way to 
those desolated villages abroad swept through 
her. 

“Oh, I do wish I were older, so I could go 
help make those ugly places prettier over 
there in France,” she sighed. “It’s so horrid 
to be only going-on-to-fifteen, when there’s 
so much to do. I’d go over right straight 
away if they’d let me, and I’d do, oh, lots of 
things.” 




14 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


She walked slowly on in the warm sunshine, 
picturing the scenes across the sea. She 
forgot that the book was not a new one, and 
she felt instant need for beautifying those 
war-racked regions. She longed to plant 
trees, vines, flowers over the grimy places— 
to make that section exactly like the Wee 
Corner, in fact. She knew she could do 
much and she wanted to do it instantly. 

“Oh, if I only could go,” she breathed 
longingly. “If I only could manage to go! 
I know there would be lots of things I could 
do, even if I am terribly young.” 

She was quite impatient with the restric¬ 
tions that kept young patriots in useless 
idleness at home. 

“What’s the use of studying geography, 
when it will all be changed in such a short 
while?” she said with a shake of her smooth 
brown head. Her clear blue eyes shone with 
an intense light. She swept aside the rest of 
her studies without a qualm. “It’s silly to 
be trifling with books when one might be doing 
something worth while,” she ended vigorously. 

She passed the beechwood copse without a 
glance at its silvery, yellowing beauty. Her 



The Letter from France 


15 


whole mind was on the fascinating subject of 
making over Europe. “If Mother would 
only go,” she thought, “she might find lots to 
write about—even if the editors do say that 
France is written out. She’d make it seem 
new. I believe we ought to do all we can to 
help and not just settle down here where 
everything is sweet and lovely.” 

She came down the long slope past the big 
field where the corn was already cut and 
shocked. The long lines of yellow-green tents 
stretched over the hill and stood out against 
the sky. Betsy looked at it with interest. 
She wished it were a cornfield in France. 

Up in the Church Annex someone was 
putting off some records to test the machine 
which was to furnish music for the enter¬ 
tainment that evening. The funds were to go 
to the European Relief League and the selec¬ 
tions were to be appropriate. The notes of 
the noted military band rang out in the 
Marsellaise as Betsy stopped to listen. 

“Oh, how sweet!” she cried with a throb of 
pleasure in the faint, clear notes. “It makes 
it seem just sinful not to go!” 

She might have stopped longer, but another 




16 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


sound was making itself heard as she listened. 
It was an eager, yapping sound, and Betsy 
knew it very well. 

“Mac’s tied up and howling,” she thought, 
dropping into everyday life again. “I sup¬ 
pose he’s been bothering Lucy’s parsley bed 
again. If he only wouldn’t!” 

The Wee Corner lay smiling in the sun¬ 
shine as she hurried down the long slope. 
The tall sentinel pines were darkly green 
against the dogwoods and sumacs of the 
thicket on the back road. The summer¬ 
house was draped in a glowing mantle of gay 
Virginia creeper. The borders were bright 
with asters and marigold and in the midst of 
it all the little white house nestled cosily. 

The sounds of Mac’s discontent grew more 
audible as Betsy hurried on. 

“He’s in the barn,” she said to herself as 
she slammed the gate behind her and ran 
around the house, flinging the books, with the 
letters under them, on the summerhouse 
table as she ran. 

There was no sign of anyone about. The 
careful Lucy was taking her afternoon outing 
and Mrs. Hale was at her typewriter. Betsy 



The Letter from France 


17 


caught the click of its keys as she passed under 
the window. Mac’s howls redoubled as he 
heard the footsteps of his rescuer. 

“ Yow - wow - wow - WOW! ” he howled, 
louder and louder every instant. 

Betsy knew the very spot, the very iron 
ring where she should find him. [He had been 
punished in this way before, for he had a 
passion of burying his cast-off bones in the 
middle of the neat Lucy’s treasured bed of 
parsley, and no amount of discipline could 
shake his belief that the parsley bed was the 
best storage place he could find. 

He tugged at his chain until his tongue 
hung out, and almost choked himself with 
joyful excitement when Betsy opened the big 
door and flew to his relief. He was not at all 
ashamed, it seemed, for he wagged his stumpy 
tail and barked short happy barks as she 
fumbled at the catch. 

She felt too much stirred by the generosity 
of the moment to try to make him feel the 
proper sense of his iniquity. She merely 
patted the rough yellow head as she released 
the snap and left him free. 

“Poor old Mac,” she said tenderly. Sym- 




18 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


pathy with all prisoners stirred her deeply. 
She was glad to see him bound away into the 
sunshine, and though he made straight 
towards the back garden she did not call him 
back. “Poor doggie, he doesn’t know what 
he’s doing,” she thought, very sentimentally, 
as she turned towards the summer house to 
get the books and letters. 

She was thinking of the pictures in the red 
book and those other pictures she had made 
for herself were still dimly with her, clouding 
her bright common sense and rather obscur¬ 
ing her judgment. She would not look back 
towards the parsley bed. She did not want 
to see what was going on there. 

The books were in the summer house and 
the letters were under them. Betsy caught 
them all up together and tripped into the 
house, where the sound of the typewriter had 
ceased. She was framing in her mind a hun¬ 
dred eager questions regarding her own part 
in the reconstruction of France, and it was 
rather disappointing to find her mother so 
deeply immersed in correcting a pile of type¬ 
written sheets that she would hardly look up 
as Betsy put the mail on the table beside bear. 



The Letter from France 


19 


“Thank you, dear, I’ll look at them later,” 
she murmured abstractedly, and went on with 
her work. 

Betsy was too full of her subject to be post¬ 
poned. Besides, she knew that the work of 
making corrections was very much less impor¬ 
tant than the actual writing of those sheets; 
so she lingered a moment and then burst out 
with her plea. 

“ Oh, Mother, don’t you think we might go 
to France? So many people are going, and 
you could write splendid stories, and there 
are so many things to do, and I’m really very 
strong and can work quite hard, even if I am 
only going on fifteen; and if you’d take tonics 
and walk a lot you would soon be able to do 
perfectly splendid writing-” 

She broke off suddenly, as her mother 
swung about in her chair. 

Mrs. Hale’s blue eyes were wide and dis¬ 
turbed. She came out of her abstraction with 
a little frown of perplexity between her pretty 
eyebrows, and she shook back the little curl¬ 
ing wisps of hair with a rather impatient 
gesture. 

“What are you talking about, Betsy?” 




20 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


she asked. “Who in the world wants me to 
write about French stories?” 

Betsy drew a long breath. She felt she was 
going to have a hard time to make her mother 
see the matter as she saw it. 

“I am talking about work,” she said very 
soberly. She could not talk as brilliantly as 
she could dream. “And there are hundreds 
of things you could see and write about that 
other people missed-” 

Mrs. Hale’s eyes were clear now and she 
understood Betsy quite well. She pushed the 
papers away from her, smiling a little as she 
reached out to pat her daughter’s shoulder. 
She understood, but she did not seem inclined 
to discuss the matter. Instead she took up 
the letters silently, still smiling her kind, 
sweet little smile, and she sorted them over 
with an eager intentness. 

Betsy was used to waiting for her mother’s 
decisions. She saw that she had not made the 
impression she had hoped, but still she did not 
despair. There was something in her mother’s 
manner that was very promising. 

“Here it is,” said Mrs. Hale, picking up an 
envelope covered with scribbled and stamped 




The Letter from France 


21 


inscriptions, which Betsy had not noticed in 
the bundle of mail. “Here it is. I’d for¬ 
gotten it entirely, as usual. Just wait, my 
dear, till I read it.” 

Betsy waited, growing more interested. 
She watched her mother’s eyes travel up and 
down the thin sheets, while the smile grew 
more tender and a soft light shone from her 
serious face. It was a long time till the last 
sheet was read, and Betsy could hardly 
restrain herself, as Mrs. Hale laid down the 
thin closely written paper, after searching for 
some item in the newspaper on her table, and 
turned to her again. 

“Oh, Mother, are we going to France?” 
she burst out, catching up the envelope with 
its many postmarks. “Oh, Mother, please 
say we are!” 

“It’s quite a different matter,” said Mrs. 
Hale gently. “It’s too late for us to go to 
France, but we are going to do our share, 
Betsy-girl, and I am looking to you to bear 
the heavy end of the log. I know you will be 
glad to do it. You will have to share your 
studies with her and try to make her 
happy-” 




22 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“But—” began Betsy, bewildered. 

“The little girl from Muedun,” explained 
Mrs. Hale. “Mrs. Warren wrote me about 
her last month and I wrote at once to have 
her sent here. One must help, of course, in 
the healing of those war-wounds, particularly 
when many people are losing interest in such 
an old story. She sailed on the Fredonia , 
and the Fredonia is to dock today. She will 
be here tomorrow afternoon.” 

“But who? Who?” demanded Betsy, 
aflame with curiosity. 

“Why, Amiee LaLanne, of course,” replied 
her mother, quite as though she had explained 
everything. “She will be brought as far as 
the Junction by another immigrant and we 
must meet her at the station. It is all 
arranged most minutely.” 

“Is she coming to stay with us?” asked 
Betsy, breathless with interest. “Who— 
where-?” 

Mrs. Hale picked up her pencil again. She 
evidently thought she had made the matter 
very clear, but she was patient with Betsy’s 
curiosity. “She is the French orphan who is 
to live with us until she is educated, or some 




The Letter from France 


23 


of her family can be found,” she said rather 
absently. “Mrs. Warren wrote me of her a 
month or so ago. She used to know the 
family in France. It was difficult to arrange, 
but it is all settled now. Run and ask Lucy 
to have the little spare room put in order, will 
you, my dear?” and she settled down to her 
work again, entirely oblivious of the astonish¬ 
ment and dismay on Betsy’s vivid face. 

Betsy went slowly out of the room and 
downstairs. She felt as though a bomb had 
exploded at her feet. 

“A French orphan,” she repeated. “Right 
here in the Wee Corner, too. A real French 
orphan.” 

She did not wonder at all about Amiee 
LaLanne—what she was like or how she 
would like her new home. She was too much 
occupied with other feelings in the first 
moment of shock. 

“Now we’ll never get to France at all,” 
she said dolefully." All of those noble emotions 
she had felt for the flag and the ruined villages 
seemed to be quite wasted. It was very tame 
indeed. 

“ Anyone could take a French orphan for a 



24 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


while,” she told herself. “There’s nothing 
exciting about that!” 

She went out into the garden, still holding 
the two books under her arm. She made her 
way to the summerhouse and sat down in 
the long chair. The zest had gone out of 
life. She shut her eyes to shut out the pretty 
garden and the bright sunshine. She felt 
like a prisoner in the peaceful scene. 

“A French orphan,” she repeated once 
more. “And I suppose she’ll stay forever!” 

There was a sound of rustling among the 
leaves at her feet, and she opened her eyes to 
see Mac, with his nose encrusted with fresh 
earth, standing beside her chair, looking up at 
her with a disturbed expression. 

She leaned quickly down to catch his rough 
head in her two strong little arms. 

“ Oh, Mac, Amiee LaLanne is coming tomor¬ 
row,” she said, giving him a very hard 
squeeze. “You’ll have to be nice to her, you 
know, because she’s a French orphan, but you 
mustn’t love her more than you love me.” 

Mac sat up wdth his red tongue hanging 
out in an amiable smile, and his little brown 
eyes were so true and steady that Betsy felt 




The Letter from France 


25 


suddenly ashamed of herself. The glamor of 
her dream pictures faded quite away, and she 
sat up in the long chair, herself again—kind, 
brave and unselfish. 

“I’m a silly thing to be thinking of going so 
far away,” she told him with a little laugh at 
herself. “I’d simply cry my eyes out to leave 
the dear Wee Corner and Selma and Philip 
and all. It was perfectly lovely of Mother to 
have Amiee LaLanne come to us. I wonder 
what she’ll be like?” 

It was tremendously interesting, now that 
she looked at it in the right way. No one 
else in the village had any such proud privi¬ 
leges. Some of them contributed to the sup¬ 
port of Belgian or French orphans, but not 
one family had a real, flesh-and-blood orphan 
for their own. 

She reached for the books she had flung on 
the table. 

“I’ll read every word of them both before 
tomorrow morning,” she planned, kindling at 
the thought. “I may have to stay up all 
night, but I simply must know all about the 
builded villages and the poor deserted children, 
so that I can understand how Amiee LaLanne 
feels.” 



26 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


She opened the “Children of Compeigne,” 
at the title page. There was a relish in the 
very type that lured her. 

“A French orphan. In the Wee Corner,” 
she murmured as she turned the first page. 
“I wonder what she’ll be like?” 


\ 



CHAPTER II 


Amiee Arrives 

* TT TE’RE just in time,” said Mrs. Hale. 

The train was sliding around the 
" * last curve as they reached the little 

station. It slowed down for the station plat¬ 
form as Mr. Simpson pulled up the horse and 
they jumped down. Mrs. Hale had thought it 
best to have a conveyance for the little new¬ 
comer who had traveled so many weary miles 
to her journey’s end, and Mr. Simpson had 
offered the two-seated surrey with himself as 
driver. 

Betsy hurried to the front platform. She 
wanted to have the very first glimpse of their 
guest. “I suppose she will look very Frenchy 
and different,” she had said to her mother on 
the way. “There won’t be any trouble about 
recognizing her, I am sure.” 

She was surer than ever, as she glanced at 
the sturdy country girls and their equally 
hearty mothers who were waiting on the cinder 
path beside the tracks. 

( 27 ) 


28 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“She won’t look much like them,” she 
smiled at her mother, who w^as scanning the 
windows of the cars as they slowed to a full 
stop. She felt a thrill of pride in Amiee 
LaLanne, who would be so very different and 
so very superior. 

“There she is,” she exclaimed, as a tall 
girl in dark clothes appeared on the platform 
of the second car. “How sweet!" 

But the tall girl stepped down to a small 
group of waiting friends and disappeared at 
once in their eager company. It was plain 
she could not be Amiee LaLanne. 

“There isn’t anyone else,” cried Betsy 
in great disappointment. “Not a single 
girl-” 

She stopped as her mother went towards 
the steps of the third car, where a black- 
robed, square-set woman was tugging a huge 
valise through the door, while the obliging 
train-man was carrying out two large paper 
parcels which she had just handed him. A 
shadowy figure hovered behind in the little 
recess at the end of the car. The woman 
chattered and gesticulated as she handed the 
valise to the conductor, and then she backed 




Amiee Arrives 


29 


into the car again, shoving the other figure out 
toward the steps of the car. 

Betsy caught her breath. “Oh!” she said 
to herself. She said it sharply, as though 
some one had stuck a pin in her arm. 

It was a short, thick-set girl in heavy 
black. She moved slowly down the steps, 
while the woman, nodding and waving to Mrs. 
Hale, who had advanced, poured out a perfect 
flood of explanation and counsel as to the care 
of her charge. 

I The conductor and train-man paused for 
the girl to reach the cinder path, for the final 
excited instructions from the escort, and for 
Mrs. Hale to accept the slow girl together 
with her bundles and valise. And then the 
train began to move, the conductor and train¬ 
man jumped on, and the shriek of the whistle 
drowned the last shouted w^ords of the excited 
woman on the car platform. 

Betsy stood perfectly still as the train 
pulled out and left the little group on the 
cinders. She stared at the short, heavy¬ 
faced girl in crepe, who was looking calmly at 
Mrs. Hale, who, in her turn, was occupied with 
the bundles and bag which the station agent 
was taking up. 



30 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“She isn’t a bit French looking,” thought 
the dismayed Betsy, noting the broad, indif¬ 
ferent face beneath the crepe hat. “The 
only thing that’s odd about her is the mourn¬ 
ing hatband. She looks exactly like some of 
these country girls.” 

Then she went forward with her hand out¬ 
stretched. Her ready sympathy was begin¬ 
ning to rise as she saw the little perplexed 
frown on the stranger’s forehead deepen at 
Mrs. Hale’s question as to her luggage. 

“You are Amiee, aren’t you?” she said in 
her friendliest voice and in very clear French. 
She was glad she had gone into languages so 
thoroughly now that she needed to use one 
of them. 

The girl bowed with a rather distant air, 
and disregarding the outstretched hand, she 
turned to Mrs. Hale, speaking in careful 
English and almost without an accent. 

“It is all the luggage I have, Madame,” 
she explained in a slightly impatient way. 
“Madame Koot thought it best to carry it 
with us by hand. The luggage vans are 
untrustworthy at present, she says.” 

Mrs. Hale laughed her little rippling laugh 



Amiee Arrives 


31 


and patted the stranger’s shoulder kindly. 
“I am sure it is a vast deal more than we 
looked for, my dear,” she said in her brightest 
fashion. “I am almost disappointed that 
your possessions are so numerous, for it 
leaves us so much less to do for you. We’ve 
been looking forward with so much pleasure 
to your coming,” she added, as they followed 
the bundles to the surrey, where the obliging 
Mr. Simpson was active in helping the station 
agent to stow them away beneath the seats. 

Betsy felt rather snubbed, and she slipped 
into her seat beside the amiable Mr. Simpson 
very quietly, not venturing another word to 
the newcomer. 

“She doesn’t like me at all,” she thought, 
fixing her eyes on a buckle in the harness. 
She would not look around unless they spoke 
to her—on that she was quite determined. 

“ I’ll be pleasant if she wants to talk to me, 
but I shan’t bother her again.” 

The drive was a very silent one. Mr. 
Simpson was absolutely mute, except for 
some chirping and clucking to the willing 
horse. Mrs. Hale made one or two little 
comments on the landscape, to which Amiee 




32 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


made short, mechanical replies. Altogether 
it was very stiff and uncomfortable, and 
entirely different from any of the imagined 
meetings which had been dancing through 
Betsy’s nimble brain since yesterday. 

As they came in sight of the Wee Corner 
Betsy could not forbear. 

“There it is,” she cried, turning to watch 
the effect on the strange girl’s face. “There 
is the place we live. Isn’t it the dearest little 
house in the world?” 

The French girl looked at the little house 
cuddling among its trees and gardens and a 
strange expression came over her face. 

“It is little, of a certainty, yes,” she agreed 
coldly. “The flowers are very bright. But 
are you not lonely—so far from habitations? 
It is the wilderness, is it not? ” and she glanced 
about the smiling fields and winding roads 
with evident distaste. 

Betsy was astounded. She had never 
dreamed that anyone could regard the dear 
little house with such a look of disfavor. 
She rallied bravely, however, for she was not 
easily daunted, and the spirit of her New 
England forebears was rising within her. 



Amiee Arrives 


33 


“Oh, it really isn’t far from the other 
houses,” she explained eagerly, as the surrey 
came to a halt before the gate. “The trees 
hide the other houses, you know. The 
church is just over the hill, and Mr. Simpson’s 
house and the Timmins farm and lots of 
others are quite close. We like it because it 
isn’t right in the village.” 

Amiee said nothing. She seemed to hold 
her own opinions, though, for she looked 
about, as she stepped down from the carriage, 
and her expression did not change. Betsy 
followed her as she went with Mrs. Hale into 
the house, and with every step she took her 
heart sank lower. 

“She doesn’t like anything,” she said, 
noting the unchanged look of indifference 
with which the newcomer viewed the dear 
home things. “She looks perfectly bored to 
death. I hope Mother doesn’t ask me to take 
her to her room, like we planned. I shan’t 
know what in the world to say to her when 
we’re alone.” 

She had to find words, however, when Mrs. 
Hale, pausing at the foot of the stairs, left 
her to lead Amiee up to the little room next 



34 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


her own while her mother stopped behind to 
see to the luggage. 

Betsy was in an agony of embarrassment for 
the moment. 

“I ought to try to make her feel at home,” 
she thought with a flash of pity for the deso¬ 
late stranger. 

It was strange how much more compassion 
she could feel for Amiee when she did not see 
her. As long as the newcomer was following 
her up the stairs, Betsy’s heart melted in 
sympathy for her. She cleared her husky 
throat and tried to find words that might find 
their way to the right spot, but she delayed 
too long, for their feet were nimbler than her 
tongue and they were in the little cozy room 
with its cheerful dormer windows before a 
word was spoken. 

Then Betsy faced about, meaning to say 
something that should make them friends at 
once, but when her eyes met those of Amiee, 
all her kind speeches fled completely. The 
French girl looked at her with the same stolid 
look with its touch of indifference that had so 
baffled Betsy before. 

Still, it was necessary to talk. Betsy 




Amiee Arrives 


35 


moved to the closet, opening the door. “You 
can put your coat on the hanger here,” she 
said boldly. “The little closet under the win¬ 
dow is a good place for hats.” 

Amiee stood squarely on the rug before the 
dresser. She looked about her with a careful 
survey, saying never a word in response. 
She looked at the fresh white bed, at the 
dainty white curtains, at the flowers in the 
small green vase on the table. Then she 
turned to the mirror and began to take off her 
hat. It was very disconcerting. 

Betsy’s compassion had turned to disap¬ 
pointment and was taking on an edge that 
was very much like vexation, in spite of her 
pity for French orphans. “She might pre¬ 
tend to like something , just to be polite,” she 
thought. “She isn’t a bit like those poor, 
desolate orphans in the books.” 

Amiee calmly took off the crepe hat with 
its crepe streamer and then she looked with 
disfavor on the small ample closet under the 
window. 

“It will discompose my new hat furniture,” 
she said in her precise, slow speech. “I wish 
it not to be discomposed into shabbiness by 
squeezing.” 



36 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy’s touch of vexation melted before the 
quaint phrases. She did not laugh, however. 
She merely showed Amiee how to bestow the 
treasured new hat with its floating trimming 
on the wide shelf in the low closet so that its 
“furnishings” should not be discomposed. 
She was quite serious about it, and she became 
more at ease with their guest. 

“You’ll find lots of room in the dresser and 
the chest there,” she told her cheerfully. 
“Lucy will bring your things up pretty soon, 
I suppose, and you can change, if you want. 
The bathroom is down-stairs next to Mother’s 
room. There’s always plenty of hot water.” 

Amiee faced slowly about. “But I have 
already washed this day,” she explained, 
“At the hotel this morning there was warm 
water and also cold water in the corner of the 
room.” 

Betsy felt she had made another blunder. 
“Oh, of course,” she said hastily. “You look 
awfully neat. The trains are pretty clean, 
now that the windows are down. It’s quite 
different in the summer.” 

She was glad that the sound of bumping 
broke in on her disjointed speech. Lucy was 



Amiee Arrives 


37 


bringing the two parcels under one arm and 
the valise in the other hand. It was a tight 
squeeze in the narrow stairway and she made a 
good bit of noise as she mounted the steps and 
crowded through the door. Amiee looked at 
her with a little frown. Betsy ran to help 
deposit the bundles safely on the bed. 

“There, Miss, they’re all there,” said Lucy 
pleasantly. She, too, felt kindly to the orphan 
stranger. 

She paused at the door, looking back into 
the room with a good-natured smile. “Is 
there anything else I can do for you?” she 
asked. “Want that I should open the grip 
for you?” 

Amiee shook her head. She was fingering 
something in her pocket. “No, I thank you, 
I am not in need of you,” she replied rather 
ungraciously. 

And then she found what she wanted in her 
pocket, and she advanced to Lucy, holding 
out a coin in two fingers. “For the baggages ,” 
she said briefly. 

Lucy put her hands behind her so swiftly 
that the coin dropped on the floor and rolled 
to Betsy’s feet. 



38 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“I don’t need to be paid,” she snapped, 
and she slammed the door with a jerk and 
went hurriedly downstairs. Betsy could 
hear her heels clicking on the bare steps and 
the sound of the door below as she vanished 
into the lower regions. 

Betsy stooped to restore the coin to Amiee* 
She felt very uncomfortable indeed. It was 
far from the scene she had planned. “Lucy 
didn’t mean to be impudent, I am sure,” 
she said earnestly as she laid the coin in 
Amiee’s indifferent hand. “She’s usually 
very good tempered. Something must have 
happened to upset her. I’ve never seen her 
like this before.” 

Amiee accepted the apology in absolute 
silence. She stood on the exact spot where 
she had tendered the coin to the indignant 
Lucy, and she looked at the wall beyond 
Betsy’s head. It was evident that she wished 
to be alone. 

Betsy hesitated for the fraction of a second 
and then she mustered all her courage. 

She went over to Amiee and she took one 
passive hand in her own warm one. She 
leaned forward and kissed her heartily on the 



Amiee Arrives 


39 


dark cheek. “I’m awfully glad you have 
come,” she said sweetly. “You mustn’t feel 
lonely or unhappy, if you can help it, for we 
all want to make you comfortable.” 

And then she dropped the limp hand, and 
without another look at the unmoved face, 
she went swiftly out of the room, shutting 
the door carefully behind her. 

She was conscious of a flush of elation as 
she released the knob. “I made my little 
speech, anyway,” she thought, with a bird¬ 
like quirk of her brown head. 

As she went down the stairs the flush died. 
She was very human, after all. 

“She never budged an eyelash,” she told 
herself hotly. “Her fingers were as limp as a 
fish.” 

At the door of her mother’s room she 
paused. She decided not to go in. Instead 
she passed quickly down and out into the 
summer house, where Selma was waiting by 
previous arrangement. 

Selma started up as Betsy’s footsteps 
sounded on the flag-path. A disappointed 
look spread over her pretty face as she saw 
that Betsy was alone. 



40 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Didn’t she want to come out?” she asked, 
and her soft, slow voice was alive with inter¬ 
est. “ Isn ’ t she well or—what ? ’ ’ 

Betsy stood in the door of the summer 
house. She held herself very erect. There 
was a strange expression about her lips. 

“Selma Worthington,” she said solemnly, 
“she’s a soap image—that’s what she is. And 
she perfectly despises the Wee Corner!” 

Selma opened her eyes very wide. She 
wanted further particulars, however. 

“Tell me just what she is like, though,” 
she urged. “Does she look like any of the 
pictures in that new book? Is she— 1 —” 
Betsy broke in with a hopeless gesture. 
“I can’t tell you what she’s like,” she replied. 
“You’ll have to see for yourself. But all I 
can say is that she’s different from anyone I 
ever knew. She’s made Lucy mad already, 
and she did it without saying two words. 
She regularly paralyzed me, and even Mother 
couldn’t talk to her much. She sort of shuts 
you up without saying anything herself. 
It’s awfully uncomfortable.” 

Selma gazed at the chrysanthemum buds 
in the nearby border. A pucker came into 
her smooth brow. 





Amiee Arrives 


41 


“I guess I won’t stay, after all,” she said, 
rising. “I’ll come over and see you 
tomorrow.” 

Betsy watched her as she went out by the 
flag-path gate. She sighed as the latch 
clicked shut behind her. Then she shut her 
lips in a very firm line. She began to feel 
ashamed of her frankness. 

“It will be worse than doing awfully hard 
work, to have that French orphan about all 
the time; but it’s Mother’s choice and what¬ 
ever Mother does is perfectly right,” she said 
to herself. “All I’ve got to do is to be nice to 
her, and I’m going to do it.” 

She turned to glance up toward the window 
of the guest room. Her slim, lithe figure was 
tense with determination. 

“I’m going to be nice to her—if it kills me,” 
she declared. “She shan’t make Mother sorry 
she brought her here. I’ll be so nice to her 
that she’ll just have to thaw out.” 



CHAPTER HI 


First Impressions 

B ETSY went into the house with a quick 
step. 

She ran up-stairs, meaning to begin 
her work of being nice at once. The door of 
the guest room was still closed, however, and 
though she hesitated outside for a long, uncer¬ 
tain minute, no sounds came from within. 

“She’s resting,” she thought compassion¬ 
ately, and turned to her own room across the 
little landing. 

It was remarkable how tenderly she felt 
towards their charge when Amiee was absent. 
It seemed as though her actual presence 
broke the pleasant thread of which her day¬ 
dreams had been spun. The web went 
briskly on in her absence, and Betsy smiled to 
herself as she left the closed door. 

“She’ll feel better after while,” she said 
cheerfully. “It’s all rather queer to her, no 
doubt, and she may not be used to girls.” 

( 42 ) 


First Impressions 


43 


Her own dear room looked very inviting to 
her. The dormer window where she had 
dreamed and planned and stuck in pins, too, 
sometimes, seemed to beckon to her. She 
would have liked to forget that there was a 
French orphan in the house and to have 
dropped on her knees beside the low sill to 
watch the long shadows of the tall pines 
creeping over the summer house roof. But 
she did not indulge herself. 

The last slanting shaft of sunlight caught 
out the colors of a little flag pinned up on the 
wall at the foot of her bed, and she nodded at 
it, as though it had spoken to her. She 
looked at it thoughtfully, remembering the 
day she had pinned it there. 

“I don’t know whether thawing out French 
orphans is a ten-cent size job or not,” she 
mused, staring at the little flag. “I suppose 
it must be, though. It’s what I’ve got to do, 
anyway,” and she sighed a bit in spite of her¬ 
self. She had looked for such keen enjoy¬ 
ment in this French orphan that she simply 
couldn’t help sighing a bit. 

After she had smoothed her hair and re-tied 
her necktie she tiptoed across the landing for 



44 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


another breathless moment of listening at the 
closed door. She was quite eager now to 
begin her work of being nice. There was no 
movement inside, however, and she was 
obliged to postpone her good intentions once 
again. 

She ran down to find her mother in the 
sitting-room where a cheerful fire was crack¬ 
ling on the hearth and Mac was stretched 
comfortably on the rug. Mrs. Hale was 
sitting with her chin in her hand staring into 
the leaping flame, and Betsy thought she 
looked very serious. She thought she knew 
why, too. 

“Amiee is going to be very nice when she 
knows us better/' she said, slipping down on 
the rug beside the willing Mac. “It must be 
all dreadfully strange to her.” 

Mrs. Hale looked down at her with a sud¬ 
den smile breaking through her serious look, 
and Betsy hurried on. 

“She’s quite generous, I think,” she 
enlarged eagerly. “She wanted to pay Lucy 
for bringing her things up, and that was 
rather nice of her, don’t you think? She is 
so poor, you know, and she must be kind, if 
she’ll deny herself that way.” 



First Impressions 


45 


Mrs. Hale stroked the slender fingers that 
rested lightly on her knee. She seemed much 
relieved by Betsy’s words. “No doubt she 
will feel very much out of place for the first 
few days,” she said, “but we must do our 
best to help her become one of us. She will 
come around if we’re only patient.” 

That was all that was said on the subject, 
for Lucy came in to announce supper, and 
Betsy had to run up and tap on the closed 
door and call cheerfully through the keyhole 
to Amiee to come down or the muffins would 
be cold, and then, without waiting for the 
brief reply, she had to skip down-stairs again 
and have Amiee’s chair pulled out and ready 
for her, so that she might see how welcome 
she was to the first meal in her new home. 

Mrs. Hale took her seat at the head of the 
table. Betsy stood with her eyes on the door. 
They were each intent on Amiee’s entrance. 

Steps sounded on the stair. They came 
through the sitting-room at no very rapid 
rate. It was evident that Amiee was not in a 
hurry. Betsy clutched the chair-back hard 
and the smile on her lips grew stiff with wait¬ 
ing, but she smiled bravely on until the 
French girl stood in the doorway. 



46 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Come along, Amiee,” she cried cordially. 
“We’re all ready and waiting.” She was 
more effusive than was her custom, for she 
was anxious to show her mother how friendly 
they were all going to be. 

Amiee walked to the chair, giving the least 
possible bow in Mrs. Hale’s direction. She 
sat down quickly, pulling the chair from 
Betsy’s relaxed fingers. When she was 
seated and had picked up her napkin she 
spoke, ignoring Betsy entirely. 

“I have packed away my clothings in the 
depository,” she announced to Mrs. Hale. 
“Everything is ready for the inspection, 
whenever Madame designs to conduct it.” 

Mrs. Hale paused with the cream jug in her 
hand. A merry light danced in her eyes. 
“Mercy, Amiee, I’m not that sort of a per¬ 
son at all,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t think 
of inspecting anything. I’d make mistakes 
if I did. Show your things to Betsy here, if 
you want to, but don’t expect me to play 
griffin over you. I have other things to do.” 

Amiee looked so surprised at the gay tone 
and the merry look that Betsy felt she had 
to explain that her mother was a writer and 



First Impressions 


47 


that she was a very busy person indeed. 
Betsy was tremendously proud of her mother’s 
abilities, so she was not prepared for the com¬ 
ment that her explanation evoked. 

“ Madame Koot told me that the American 
ladies spent much time writing suffrage papers 
for one another to read,” she said, spreading 
her napkin carefully over her black lap. “It 
is a strange amusement,” and then she turned 
her attention entirely to the plate before her, 
and although Betsy tried to attract her inter¬ 
est with suggestions for their Monday activi¬ 
ties and Mrs. Hale talked in her most enter¬ 
taining manner, not another sentence did she 
utter during the whole meal. 

Betsy watched her with a sense of defeat. 
“She’s going to be fearfully hard to be nice 
to,” she thought ruefully, as she noted the 
stubborn set of Amiee’s round head on her 
sturdy shoulders. “She won’t smile a single 
bit. It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d only 
smile.” 

Betsy’s desire for a gleam of friendliness 
grew as the evening dragged slowly through. 
Amiee, when asked what she preferred to do, 
had no choice. Mrs. Hale was reading by the 



48 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


fire in the sitting-room and the two girls sat 
by the table with books before them, while the 
clock’s tick grew louder and louder with every 
passing minute. 

Betsy had “St. Valentine’s Day” to pore 
over, but even that old favorite lost its flavor. 
She peeped up constantly to watch the face 
opposite, hoping to catch some glimpse of the 
eyes that were so studiously hidden. Only 
twice did she have her wish. 

Once Amiee looked up, directly at her. 
Her face was somber and her eyes unreadable. 
“ Do you like living here? ” she asked abruptly, 
and at Betsy’s eager reply she dropped her 
face again to her book and went on with her 
reading. 

The second time Betsy had almost for¬ 
gotten her in the prison scene where the 
prince is being encouraged by the two girls 
in the garden, when she felt those dark, 
brooding eyes upon her again. She looked 
up to meet another abrupt question. 

“How old are you?” asked the French girl. 

“Fourteen, going on fifteen,” responded 
Betsy promptly. She was glad of so much 
interest, and would have cheerfully furnished 




- 


Do You Like Living Here?” 












First Impressions 


49 


as much more information as anyone could 
wish. 

Amiee returned to her book without another 
word, and that was the end of their conversa¬ 
tion for the evening. 

At half-past eight Betsy rose. “I’ll go up 
and light your lamp,” she told Amiee, and 
she slipped out of the room before there was 
any reply. She wanted to give the stranger a 
chance to have Mrs. Hale’s kind “good-night” 
alone. She felt that if anything could make 
Amiee sleep well it would be that pleasant 
little ceremony. 

She was barely on the second stair, however, 
before she heard the other girl’s tread behind 
her, and Amiee was in the room before she 
had the match to the lamp. There was no 
trace of change in her expression. 

“How do you make the window to close?” 
she asked, going to the open squares of blue 
star-light in a businesslike way. 

“Oh, do you want them closed?” Betsy’s 
surprise was evident. “Inever shut mine at 
night. The air is so sweet.” 

Amiee examined the fastenings without 
hesitating. “I do not love the open windows. 




50 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


They are of much coldness,” she returned 
evenly, and she watched Betsy’s deft fingers 
as she closed the casements, evidently mean¬ 
ing to help herself the next time. 

Betsy felt a touch of embarrassment as she 
turned to say her good-night. She did not 
like to kiss Amiee again, and yet in her plan¬ 
ning for the welcome of the desolate orphan 
the good-night kiss and cheerful little speech 
was a rather important factor. So she hesi¬ 
tated as she laid her hand on the door-knob. 

“I hope you’ll be comfortable,” she said in 
a confused way. “I’m right across the hall, 
you know, if you should want me. And there 
are blankets in the closet.” 

She stopped, hoping that the other would 
help her by some show of comradeship. She 
thought Amiee ought to begin to get used to 
her new surroundings by this time. It seemed 
an eternity to poor Betsy since the afternoon. 

Amiee merely nodded and stood silently 
by the dresser. She was evidently waiting 
for Betsy to be gone. 

Betsy faltered for another moment. Then 
her cheeks flushed painfully. She was realiz¬ 
ing how far below her own standard her actions 



First Impressions 


51 


were. She drew a quick breath, went swiftly 
to the stolid Amiee and printed a hasty kiss 
on her lips. 

“Good-night, and pleasant dreams/’ she 
said in a flurried way. 

She went out, leaving Amiee standing on 
the mat before the mirror, looking after her 
with a little frown on her brow. 

“There,” said Betsy to herself as she gained 
the shelter of her own room, “I’ve done my 
part anyway.” 

She would not think about Amiee at that 
moment. She felt that she could not be fair 
to her. It was not until she had undressed 
and said her prayers that she allowed herself 
an opinion. She sank down on her knees by 
the open window and stared out into the 
starry dimness of the soft night. She did not 
speak for a while, but she breathed rather 
fast. 

When she spoke it was in a whisper. “To 
think,” she said tensely, “to think that we 
have to spend years and years and years 
with her /” 

After another long breath she got up and 
went over to the little flag at the foot of her 



52 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


bed. She knew exactly where it was in the 
darkness. She touched it with her lips. 
She was just high enough to reach it. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to simply detest her, 
but I’ll be nice to her—if I can,” she promised 
bravely. 

And then she crept into bed and fell asleep 
in a daze of uncomfortable thoughts. It was 
all so very different from what she had 
expected. 

She was awakened in the morning by a 
sharp thudding sound. She sat up in bed, 
rubbing her eyes and wondering what was 
happening. It was fully a minute before she 
realized that someone was throwing little balls 
of kneaded earth against her window. 

“It’s Philip,” she said joyfully. “He’s 
heard about Amiee, and come over to hear 
things.” 

She was in her bathrobe and at the window 
in a jiffy, signaling him to silence with an 
imperative gesture. She did not want Amiee 
to hear. 

“I’ll be down right away,” she breathed, 
hanging out to make him hear the low whisper. 
“ Wait in the summer house! ” 



First Impressions 


53 


She was down in an incredibly short time. 
She found him deep in a hand-book on biology, 
but he looked up with his cheerful grin as she 
appeared. 

“Sit down and turn on the gas,” he invited. 
“I’ve heard that she’s come. What sort is 
she? Got any spirits, or is she the limpy 
sort-” 

Betsy interrupted with a puckered brow. 
“Don’t ask me what she is like,” she said. 
“You’ll have to see for yourself. She isn’t 
limpy, anyway,” she ended, feeling that she 
was being very good. She had told Selma 
more than that. 

He looked at her and whistled. “You 
aren’t exactly crazy over her, are you?” he 
ventured. “When is she on exhibition? I 
came over with a bid, if your mother is 
willing.” 

“A bid?” questioned Betsy eagerly. 
Philip’s plans were always fascinating to her. 
“A bid for what, Phil?” 

“Picnic,” he responded briefly. “I’ve an 
exam, this morning, but this afternoon the 
Prof, says I can have the old nag and the two- 
seated wagon, and I thought Deep Run would 
be a pretty good place.” 




54 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy allowed him to go no further. “Oh, 
I’m sure Mother would love to go,” she cried 
briskly. “I’ll go ask her this very minute. 
Wait for me, for I shan’t be a second. 

She was back again before he got out his 
book, and her face was beaming. “We’ll all 
be ready,” she cried gaily. “We’ll take a 
lot of lunch and the fishing poles and-” 

He got up to go. “Selma says she’ll take 
the buggy, if you’d like,” he said to her cas¬ 
ually. “I’ll drop in and tell her on my way 
back. Anyone else you want to ask?” 

Betsy considered. Then she shook her 
head. “I’d love to ask Emma Clara,” she 
said thoughtfully. “But perhaps Amiee had 
better get used to them one at a time.” 

Philip whistled again. “Phew! she sounds 
mighty queer,” he commented “Well, just 
as you say. I’ll be around with the Ark at 
one-thirty sharp. You can fix it up between 
you who goes with Selma. So long,” and he 
was off over the fence and through the 
thicket. 

Betsy turned to go into the house. 

She stooped to pick a couple of asters for 
Amiee’s breakfast plate. She choose two of 




First Impressions 


55 


the biggest white ones she could find. She 
caught the whistle of a meadow lark from the 
fields beyond the highway, and the sweet 
notes sounded happily in her ears. 

“It’s going to be a lovely day,” she thought, 
smiling. “Amiee will like it better today. 
Selma and Phil are such dears; she can’t help 
having a good time with them.” 

And then she ran into the house with the 
flowers in her hand and a bright greeting on 
the tip of her tongue. She felt that every¬ 
thing was going very happily. 





CHAPTER IV 


Getting Under Way 


B ETSY came into the sunny breakfast 
room with the flowers and her bright 
look of welcome for Amiee, who was 
just seating herself at the table. 

“Good morning, Mother and Amiee,” she 
said gaily, as she laid the white blooms at the 
other girl’s plate. “Isn’t it a perfectly lovely 
day? It’s as warm as midsummer. It will 
be glorious for our picnic this afternoon. Did 
Mother tell you we were going on a picnic?” 
she questioned Amiee, as she dropped into her 
own chair and shook out her napkin. 

Mrs. Hale smiled over the cups at her end 
of the table, but Amiee showed no joy in the 
prospect before her. She was exactly the 
same as she had been the night before. She 
had changed her best dress for a plain white 
one, but her expression was not altered in the 
least. 

“ Yes, Madame has acquainted me with the 

( 56 ) 



Getting Under Way 


57 


news,” she said in her level voice. “I have 
not had the experience to make a picnic before. 
Is it a fete cliantant ?—what you call a cafe 
party, or is it-” 

Betsy was so eager to explain that she 
broke in on the slow speech. 

“It isn’t like that at all,” she said briskly. 
“ It’s having lunch out in the woods, and mak¬ 
ing the fire to cook on, and fishing, and all 
that. You’ll like it tremendously, if you’ve 
never done it before.” 

Amiee turned her dark eyes to Mrs. Hale. 
“Is it of the propriety that I make the picnic 
with you?” she asked. “I am in the mourn¬ 
ing, and it may not be of propriety.” 

Mrs. Hale assured her that the small expedi¬ 
tion to Deep Run was not in any way a social 
affair, and that she was perfectly safe in going 
with them. “It is just the same as having 
Philip and Selma to lunch here with us,” she 
explained. “No one else is going and we shall 
be as quiet as you like.” 

The slight .cloud that had been apparent on 
Amiee’s brow did not disappear. It seemed 
that she had some reluctance to the picnic, 
although she did not make any further inquir- 




58 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


ies. She ate her breakfast silently and seemed 
absorbed in her own thoughts. 

“She’s going to be a perfect blister on a 
picnic,” thought Betsy, watching her with 
lessening satisfaction. 

Amiee finished her breakfast and rose with 
the others. She declined Betsy’s offer of 
help with the task of straightening her room, 
and she went upstairs without one backward 
inviting glance. Betsy sighed again, looking 
toward her mother with troubled eyes. She 
wanted to talk things over with her, but Mrs. 
Hale shook her head, smiling. 

“Run along and make your bed, Betsy- 
girl,” she said quietly. “Lessons are due at 
ten, you know,” and she went out to the 
kitchen to give some instructions for the day. 

Betsy went upstairs in a dampened mood. 
The flowers she had picked for Amiee were 
withering on the cloth beside her empty plate. 
The door opposite her own was shut, and she 
heard Amiee slip the bolt as she reached the 
top step. “As though I’d poke in there,” 
she thought hotly. 

Her bed was made very well indeed that 
morning and her room, always neat, was a 



Getting Under Way 


59 


model of precision. She put in a studious 
half hour on her Latin, and then she went 
downstairs for the lesson hour. The unbolt¬ 
ing of the door behind her told her that their 
guest was following her, but she did not turn 
her head. 

“Ma’mselle,” called Amiee in a rather 
uncertain tone. “ Ma’mselle Betsy! ” 

Betsy turned. 

“May I demand the key?” asked Amiee. 
“I cannot find a key to this lock, though I 
have made search for it.” 

Betsy was genuinely surprised, although 
she would not show it more than she could 
help. “A key for your door?” she repeated, 
coming back quickly. “Why do you—” she 
broke off to say hastily, “There’s a key some¬ 
where for that lock, I remember seeing it when 
we were fixing the room for you.” 

She opened the door, rather to Amiee’s 
annoyance, it seemed, and after glancing 
uncertainly about, she recalled the spot where 
she had seen the key. “It’s in the bottom of 
the little closet,” she said positively and 
started for the small cupboard under the 
window, where she had helped Amiee bestow 
her crepe-laden hat. 



60 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Amiee was before her, and put an eager 
hand to fend her from the little door. “I 
can produce it immediately,” she said in an 
agitated way, and she put her hand into the 
closet, still keeping the door slightly ajar so 
that the contents were invisible to Betsy. 
She had the key out in a second, and she shut 
the door with a snap. 

“Thank you very much, Ma’mselle,” she 
said in her usual voice, leading the way to 
the door. “It was most facile, was it not?” 

Betsy had a sense of being almost pushed 
out onto the landing, while Amiee fitted the 
key to its lock, clicked the latch, and then 
dropped the key into her pocket. They were 
down-stairs in the sitting-room before she had 
time to wonder at the celerity with which the 
French girl had dispatched the matter. 

“She can be quick enough when she wants,” 
she thought with a tinge of amusement at the 
care which Amiee took of her shabby valise 
and paper parcels. “I wonder if she’ll take 
to the lessons like that?” 

It had been arranged that the newcomer 
was to share her studies with Betsy, and to 
make one of all their household occupations. 




Getting Under Way 


61 


and Betsy had been looking forward to the 
lesson hour with some distrust. Would 
Amiee prove a clever scholar? Or would she 
be so far behind that it would be tiresome to 
have her for a companion in study? Betsy, 
after seeing her, had decided she would be 
dull, but the last few minutes had shaken her 
belief. 

“There’s no telling what she can do,” she 
decided as she arranged her books. “She’s 
more surprising than I thought she could be.” 

Surprising Amiee certainly was. She was 
far advanced in some studies, and showed a 
precocious cleverness that was disconcerting 
to the more normal Betsy. In other branches, 
however, she appeared indifferent and stupid. 
Betsy was glad when the morning was over. 
It was dispiriting work for one of her 
temperament. 

Lunch was dispatched and fishing lines, 
baskets and wraps had been gathered together 
in a neat array inside the front gate, and they 
were waiting in the summerhouse, when Lucy 
came out with a rather odd expression on her 
ruddy face. She addressed herself to Mrs. 
Hale, though her eyes strayed to the dark, 
indifferent face opposite. 



62 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


"Please, Mrs. Hale, I can’t get in the 
young lady’s room to clean that last window 
that was too late to be done of a-Saturday. 
The door’s locked,” she said and closed her lips 
primly. 

Amiee flushed through her dark skin, but 
she did not open her lips. After a glance at 
her Mrs. Hale replied easily, "Never mind 
the window today. We will see about it 
tomorrow.” 

Lucy went back to her kitchen with a toss 
of her head, while Amiee looked out at the 
swaying pine branches with a quiet smile. 
It was the first time she had really appeared 
pleased since her arrival. Betsy stared at her 
in growing perplexity. 

"She’s queer,” she thought. "Caring so 
much about locks and keys.” 

Then Philip arrived, and there was a stir 
and laughter, as there always was when 
Philip came. Betsy forgot their new friend’s 
peculiarities in her delight at Philip’s manner 
of welcoming the stranger to their festivity. 

"Oh, how jolly!” she exclaimed as they 
hurried out to examine the streamers and 
festoons which decorated the old vehicle. "It 



Getting Under Way 


63 


looks just like the carriages in our parade last 
summer. Where did you ever get so many 
French flags, Phil?” 

Philip explained that he had borrowed 
them from the drug store and the hotel, 
“besides a couple of new ones I got in town,” 
he added. “I didn’t think I’d need them so 
soon, though.” 

Amiee was plainly impressed in his favor. 
She looked at the gaily decorated vehicle 
with brightening eyes. “ It is the most belov- 
able flag in the world, is it not?” she said, 
after the introductions had been made and 
they were busy with the bestowing of their 
baskets and other bundles. “It makes those 
others appear despicable to my eye.” 

It was not a very tactful speech under the 
circumstances, and Betsy’s patriotic spirit 
rose hotly. She could not bear any dispar¬ 
agement to her own revered stars and stripes. 
Before she could find words Philip spoke, 
smiling good-naturedly on the blundering 
Amiee. { 

“Sure thing,” he said heartily.” “That’s 
the way we all feel about our own flag. 
There’s nothing like it. What do you want 



64 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


done with this basket, Mrs. Hale? It’s too 
big to go under the seat.” 

Mrs. Hale, who had not heard Amiee’s 
speech nor his reply, turned a perplexed face. 
“Oh, is it too big?” she said, and then remem¬ 
bered. “That one is to go in the buggy with 
Selma. The flat one goes with us.” 

Selma’s buggy was coming over the hill, 
and Betsy was growing anxious. “I’m going 
to ride with her,” she pulled her mother aside 
to say. “I wonder if Amiee would like to go 
with us? The seat’s wide enough for four.” 

In spite of her low tone Amiee heard. “If 
Madame allows, I shall go with her,” she told 
them evenly. “I do not have the acquaint¬ 
ance of the young lady Selma.” 

Philip chuckled. Mrs. Hale smiled and 
nodded consent. Selma was drawing up at 
the gate and Betsy had no time for further 
speech. She was disappointed, but she tried 
not to show it. “She isn’t so slow when it 
comes to anything she wants,” she thought, 
as she picked up the big basket to stow it in 
the buggy by Selma’s feet. 

Then Philip came to her aid and swung the 
heavy hamper into place, while Selma was 



Getting Under Way 


65 


being introduced to the newcomer and the 
usual pleasant speeches were being made. 
“She’s a queer fish, isn’t she?” he whispered 
with a grin. “I bet she’ll make things hum— 
when she wants to.” 

Betsy’s good humor returned in a flash. 
She didn’t mind now that Amiee had chosen 
to desert her. Her pride in Philip’s clever 
judgment wiped out her own disappointment. 
She became her usual generous self. 

“She’s strange yet,” she whispered back. 
“It’s pretty hard to be an orphan, and so 
far from home, too.” 

They were ready to start, when Philip’s 
“Golly, I forgot,” called a halt to the little 
procession. He clambered out on the shafts 
and, reaching up, began to take down some 
of the decorations. “I didn’t mean to drive 
you people about the roads in this shape,” he 
said sheepishly. “It was just a bit of fun, 
you know.” 

He had folded one of the American flags 
neatly and was taking down a French standard 
when Amiee spoke sharply: 

“It is not fitting to lower the flag of an ally,” 
she told him with a dark flush. “My flag 



66 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


should not insult itself thus. You do not well 
to take down that emblem.” 

Philip was too much astonished for reply. 
He halted involuntarily for a second, while 
the dark eyes opposite him sparkled with 
anger and Amiee’s foot tapped the floor with 
impatience. Mrs. Hale came to the rescue 
with her gentle voice. 

“Philip is taking down all the flags, my 
dear,” she said, with a significant gesture to 
the hesitating Philip. “We do not wish to 
make our country’s flag a mere decoration 
for a picnic wagon. Philip has welcomed 
you very nicely with his pretty banners, but 
their usefulness is over now.” 

It was a very good way out of the difficulty. 
Philip, much relieved, briskly plucked the 
banners from their conspicuous places and 
Amiee, seeing this, appeared to be satisfied. 
After the carriage had been stripped they 
started again. 

“She’s pretty peppery, isn’t she?” said 
Selma in a low tone. She seemed much 
impressed. Her mild eyes were wide and 
startled. 

Betsy settled down comfortably beside her 



Getting Under Way 


67 


friend. It was very pleasant to be riding 
with Selma through the warm sunny after¬ 
noon. The other carriage disappeared over 
the hill, and Dolly’s leisurely “ clip-clop, 
clip-clop” made a rhythmic accompaniment 
to the rattle of the wheels. 

“It’s because she feels strange, you see,” 
she explained with a little laugh at the 
memory of Philip’s puzzled look. “Of course 
she feels very strongly about her flag. Every¬ 
one does, you know. It’s right to care about 
it terribly.” 

Selma mused for a while. Then she said 
in her slow, soft voice, “She’s pretty peppery, 
I guess. Just being strange wouldn’t make 
her snap people up like that. Tell me all 
about her. We’ve lots of time, for I simply 
can’t make Dolly go. She’s such a poke!” 

Betsy leaned back in the cushiony seat and 
tried to give Selma a true picture of all that 
had occurred since Amiee’s advent. There 
really was not much to tell, particularly when 
she suppressed the item about the bolt and 
key, which she somehow felt was not to be 
made public. 

Selma listened with serious attention. 



68 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Well,” she said when Betsy had ended. 
“Well, it’s my belief that she’s not going to 
be much of an addition to our doings here. 
French ways are peppery, I think.” 

Betsy stared ahead down the long incline 
where the two-seated wagon was moving 
briskly along in its little cloud of dust. She 
seemed to be thinking very hard. As the 
wagon turned into the picnic ground she 
flung up her head with a laugh. 

“She may be peppery as you say, Selma, 
but there are three of us, not counting 
Mother. It will be very odd indeed if we 
can’t help her to get over it. She’ll come 
around after while, see if she doesn’t.” 

Selma steered Dolly in through the open 
bars after the other team. Her pretty pink 
face was unconvinced. “I’ll wait till I see 
how she acts,” she insisted with gentle obsti¬ 
nacy. And then she added, “She isn’t a bit 
like any of us.” 

It was that speech that stirred Betsy’s 
sympathy for Amiee. 

“No, she isn’t,” she agreed, with her eyes 
growing soft and tender. “ She’s been through 
so much more terrible things than we’ve ever 



Getting Under Way 


69 


known. Poor Amiee, I am going to make 
her happy today, though, if I possibly can.” 
Selma pulled Dolly to a halt. 

“If you can,” she repeated thoughtfully. 
“That’s it—if you can.” 

Betsy was impatient of so much distrust. 
“Just you wait and see,” she said impetu¬ 
ously, as she poised on the step to jump out. 
“I’ll show you that I can do it. Wait and 




CHAPTER V 


Betsy Does Her Best 

TO, many thanks, Madame, I do 
not prefer to fish,” Amiee said. 

*** ^ “I like not at all the serpents on 

the hook.” 

Philip snickered and Selma giggled. Betsy 
was the only one who did not laugh. “I 
think the worms are horrid, too,” she said 
quickly. “But Philip always puts them on 
the hook for us. You’d better come, Amiee. 
It’s great fun in the boat.” 

Amiee shook her head. “Unless Madame 
insists, I stay on the land always,” she replied 
very firmly. 

It was plain she did not intend to be per¬ 
suaded. Betsy resigned herself to her fate. 

“I’ll stay with you then,” she announced 
briskly. “Selma can go out with Philip, and 
we’ll watch them from this rock. Mother is 
going to take a rest in the carriage, but we 
won’t disturb her here.” 

( 70 ) 



Betsy Does Her Best 


71 


It took very little persuasion to urge Selma 
to the delightful task of helping Philip with 
the boat. It was surprising how gay they 
were about it, and about the bestowal of the 
bait cans and the fishing rods. Betsy thought 
she had never heard Philip laugh so often or 
seen Selma in such high spirits, but that may 
have been because her own situation was so 
far from diverting. 

Amiee sat dutifully beside her on the broad 
rock, after Mrs. Hale had settled down with 
her book in the nearby carriage, and they 
watched the boat make its way out into the 
middle of the broad, shallow stream. The 
horses, tied to the branches in the grove, 
cropped the grass. The lap of the water on 
the rocks sounded lazy and inviting. All 
about them was the flutter of leaves in the 
soft breeze and the flicker of sunshine on grass 
and rock and water. 

Betsy would have liked to sit and dream 
away the bright hour, but she had a weighty 
sense of her responsibility to their guest. 
When the laughter and splash of oars had 
died into the distance and the boat became 
indistinct among the drooping willows 



72 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


upstream, she began her task of enter¬ 
tainment. 

She talked very hard and very cheerfully. 
She told Amiee about the hospital, and Miss 
Willie, about the Bonds and the mysterious 
Major; she described Emma Clara in her old 
home and in her new state of “Mrs. Doctor;” 
she enlarged on the cure of Mr. Si Myers, and 
she really enjoyed the work after she warmed 
up to it. 

Amiee sat with her dull dark eyes fixed on 
the shimmering water, never saying a word 
unless a question was put directly to her. 
She hardly seemed to listen to Betsy’s cheer¬ 
ful chatter. She kept her eyes fixed on the 
shady reaches where the boat had disappeared. 
There was a shade of discontent on her dark 
face. 

“It’s pretty hard to make her have a good 
time,” thought Betsy, noting the look. “She 
doesn’t want to do anything—even) talk.” 

Just as she formed the thought the boat 
came drifting out of the willow shadows, and 
Selma, at the stern, waved gaily to them. 
She was holding up a small glittering object 
on a string. 




Betsy Does Her Best 


73 


“Oh, she’s got a fish!” cried Betsy, well 
pleased. She liked to see some results from 
action, and her own efforts in the last hour 
had been very disappointing. Selma’s suc¬ 
cess delighted her. 

As the boat drew near she ran down on the 
pebbly shore to help pull in the tie-rope. 
The fish looked larger as it came close. “Oh, 
what a beauty!” she said heartily. “It’s 
big enough to cook. What fun!” 

Selma stepped out on the pebbles, smiling 
and pleased. Betsy was always so nice about 
other people’s luck, she thought. “Philip 
had to help me pull him in,” she explained 
proudly. “I couldn’t have held him a min¬ 
ute by myself.” 

Philip stood up in the boat, pushing with 
the oar to keep it steady. “It’s a dandy, 
isn’t it?” he said. He, too, was much pleased 
with Selma’s triumph, and he looked after her 
with a cock of his curly head as she ran off to 
show her trophy to Mrs. Hale. 

“It’s the biggest catty we ever caught 
here,” he boasted. Then, swinging the boat 
about to fasten it, he paused. “Anyone want 
to go out for a bit?” he asked with a look at 



74 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy. He did not mean she should miss all 
the fun. 

Amiee stepped forward. “I shall now 
fish,” she announced calmly. “I did not 
know it was like that.” 

Betsy almost laughed out loud at Philip’s 
face as he helped Amiee into the boat, but 
she managed to smother her mirth, and she 
stepped lightly in after the slower girl. She 
was happy in the prospect of merely being 
out in the boat. 

“I won’t fish this time,” she told Philip 
when he baited a line. “I’ll take the oars 
and you can tend to Amiee. She doesn’t 
know how to fish, you know.” 

He merely grunted, but when he had the 
boat upstream among the willow shadows 
again, he dutifully changed seats with Betsy 
and began his instructions, showing Amiee 
how to throw the line into the rippling depths, 
and how to play it out as they drifted along. 
There was no need to caution Amiee not to 
talk—at least, at first. 

They drifted along silently for a while. 
Betsy, with the oars idle under her hands, 
watched the rippling reflections of the white 



Betsy Does Her Best 


75 


clouds on the water. “It’s like floating on 
the sky itself,” she thought dreamily. She 
forgot the others as she watched the glitter¬ 
ing, blue-washed water at the boat’s side. 

After a while she became conscious that 
they were talking. The boat had drifted far 
into a little sheltered cove and Amiee’s line 
was tied to the thwart. Philip was still fish¬ 
ing, but without hope, apparently, for he did 
not interrupt Amiee’s recital. 

“Why, she’s actually talking of her own 
accord,” thought Betsy with an inward laugh. 
“How did Phil ever do it?” 

She caught the last sentence: “And then 
they took her away, and I have the belief 
that she was transported to London or Amer¬ 
ica. I have the positiveness that she yet 
lives.” Then Amiee saw that Betsy was lis¬ 
tening eagerly, and she turned grudgingly. 
“It is my father, whom they had told me was 
dead in the trenches,” she explained. But 
Betsy was still more puzzled. 

“You’re an orphan, though, aren’t you?” 
she asked bluntly. “They told Mother your 
mother and father both were—” she stopped 
dismayed at herself. 




76 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Amiee did not appear to be hurt. “They 
told me I was an orphan, by means of my 
father in the trenches,” she replied evenly. 
“They told me also likewise that my mother 
did die of the fever. But I do not believe it. 
She was not in that London where I sought 
her, but I shall have news of her in this 
America yet.” 

She looked so positive that Betsy was much 
impressed. “But she would have tried to 
find you before this” she said doubtfully. 
Then brightening, she added, “Lets tell 
Mother right away.” 

Amiee looked earnestly at her. “But the 
Madame Koot warned me most certainly that 
I must be secret about my affairs, and your 
mother may have the anger that I am not a 
two-sided orphan, as was described in the 
letter to her,” she replied. “It has been too 
long a time. Madame Warren assured me 
ma mere would have returned had she lived.” 

Betsy was on fire with interest. “You just 
tell Mother all about it,” she cried, tugging 
away at the oars. “She’ll soon find whether 
it’s true or not. We don’t want you to be an 
orphan a minute longer than you have to.” 



Betsy Does Her Best 


77 


Amiee was uneasy. She seemed to regret 
her confidence. “But the young lady Selma,” 
she protested. “X like it not that she share 
my affairs. It is a mistake of me to speak 
like this.” 

Both Philip and Betsy joined in promises 
that eased her greatly. “ We’ll keep mum as 
long as you tell us to,” Philip told her. 
“ You’d best tell Mrs. Hale, though, for she 
can help you, you know.” 

When they stepped out on the pebbly 
beach Betsy’s eyes were dancing. She left 
Amiee to help Philip with the boat if she 
could, and she ran over to the carriage where 
Selma was sitting with Mrs. Hale. 

“We’ve had a lovely time,” she said joy- 
fully" “ Aren’t we going to begin to get the 
fire ready for that fish, Selma? And, oh, 
Mother dear, Amiee is beginning to like 
things a wee bit, I do believe. You ought to 
talk to her now!" 

She felt very crafty to thus separate Selma 
from the others, bringing her mother and 
Amiee together in the most natural way. 
“She’ll tell her right away,” she thought, 
with great satisfaction as she led Selma 



78 


Betsy Hale Tries 


hastily off to the grove to pick up sticks for 
the fire. 

“Things are getting interesting, aren’t 
they?” she said gaily, as she got a bundle of 
dry sticks together. 

Selma had a different point of view. The 
half hour in the carriage had made her drowsy. 
“Oh, I don’t know,” she answered absently. 
Her whole attention was on the dry twigs at 
her feet. 

After she had collected an armful she looked 
at Betsy with a sudden recollection. “I guess 
you’ve been making her enjoy herself,” she 
said shrewdly. “You’re always cocked up 
when you’ve done what you said you would.” 

Betsy laughed out loud. “No, I haven’t 
either,” she answered truthfully. “I couldn’t 
do it, after all. And I tried pretty hard, too.” 

Selma continued to look at her sparkling 
face. “Well, something’s happened to please 
you, anyway,” she said placidly. “I guess 
we’re going to have a better time than you 
thought.” 

They did have a very good time, although 
Amiee was very quiet and Betsy was on pins 
and needles to know whether she had spoken 



Betsy Does Her Best 


79 


to Mrs. Hale as she had been advised. Mrs. 
Hale looked exactly as usual, however, and 
there seemed to be no understanding between 
her and Amiee, as Betsy thought there would 
be if Amiee had spoken. 

“She’s awfully quiet, isn’t she?” she whis¬ 
pered to Selma, who had caught her staring 
unusually hard at their new friend. 

Selma nodded. “She’s different from any¬ 
one I know,” she said easily. “She is so sort 
of slow and yet so quick when you aren’t 
expecting it. I guess it’s being in the war 
and having things happen afterward that 
makes her so different. Maybe she’ll get more 
comfortable after a while when she really 
knows us.” 

Betsy hoped so with all her heart. She did 
not see any immediate signs of any great 
change in Amiee, however, though she watched 
with eager care. When Philip dug the shallow 
circular hole for the oven and Betsy thought 
Amiee was wondering what his digging was 
for, she went over to Amiee’s elbow and said 
pleasantly: 

“Philip knows just how to do things right, 
doesn’t he? He always digs the oven just so. 



80 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


and then when the corn and potatoes are put 
in and the earth is smoothed over them, and 
the fire is made on top of it all, the vegetables 
cook evenly, and they all get done at once. 
They’re awfully good, too.” 

She was disappointed to note that Amiee’s 
eyes had strayed before the end of her little 
speech, and that the oven with its tempting 
cookery did not appear to interest Amiee at all. 

Again, when Selma was helping Mrs. Hale 
set the table and Betsy and Amiee were sent 
to rummage for late wild flowers to deck the 
cloth, Betsy thought she might strike a spark 
by an inquiry about the missing mother. “ Did 
—does your mother have dark eyes, too?” 
she asked in as tender and sympathetic a tone 
as she could manage for her eagerness. “Do 
you look like her or like your father?” 

Amiee stooped to pick a red leaf before she 
answered slowly, “I am like my father. I 
shall be short like him when I am fully grown. 
I am taller than you are, nevertheless. You 
will always be small and thin, I think.” 

If Amiee had planned to turn Betsy’s mind 
from questioning, she had succeeded admir¬ 
ably, for the term “thin” was rather con- 



Betsy Does Her Best 


81 


temptuously spoken, and Betsy felt that 
Amiee, had she more command of the lan¬ 
guage, might have said “ skinny.” That was 
what her tone implied. Betsy did not think 
much of herself or her appearance, or she 
would have known that her slender, graceful 
quickness of body was one of her chief charms. 
She only felt that the heavier Amiee despised 
her flexible slimness and she felt hurt for the 
moment. 

“ She’s quite as vexing as Selma thought at 
first,” she told herself hotly as she, too, stooped 
to gather a fading bit of belated purple aster. 
“She likes to say snippy things and make one 
feel cross.” 

By the time she had snapped the dry stem 
of the aster she remembered the reason for 
Amiee’s caustic temper, and she flashed up a 
smile at the dark face beside her. 

“I am rather small,” she confessed with a 
little laugh, and she did not venture any 
further questions, for a great wave of pity 
for the bereaved orphan swept over her, and 
she felt that any inquiries she could make 
would only seem like prying, since Amiee did 
not invite further confidence. 


6 



82 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


She gathered the flowers that were left in 
the sheltered places and, chatting happily, 
she led Amiee back to the spot where the 
picnic supper was laid. “Til wait till she’s 
had a good chance to talk to Mother,” she 
thought, “and then I’ll ask Phil. He’ll know 
whether she has told. He always sees things 
that I miss, somehow.” And she gave 
herself up to the joys of the hour. 

In spite of Amiee’s quiet indifference, they 
had a very jolly time, and Betsy enjoyed every 
minute of it. She had the satisfaction of 
seeing Amiee smile a number of times as the 
picnic progressed and of actually hearing her 
laugh out loud once, and although Amiee 
lapsed immediately into her usual stolid man¬ 
ner, Betsy felt that the future was not quite 
so hopeless as before. 

Amiee had smiled at Philip’s speeches. 
Betsy unconsciously noticed that Selma and 
her own bright sayings did not appear at all 
humorous to the French girl. It was when 
they were waiting for the last touches to be 
put on the supper that Amiee laughed aloud, 
and it was at Philip’s actions again. 

The vegetables had been taken from their 




Betsy Does Her Best 


83 


steaming oven beneath the smaller fire, the 
coffee—a picnic treat for all—was sending 
out delicious fragrance from a hot stone by 
the fire and Mrs. Hale and Selma were finish¬ 
ing the exciting task of frying the thin, curling 
slivers of pink ham. Everything was at the 
very point of completion, when a cry from 
Mrs. Hale startled them all. 

She stood transfixed, with the fork lifted 
above the pan and an expression of acute 
concern on her pretty face. “Oh, my new 
sailor!” she cried in distress. “My new, 
lovely sailor hat! She’s eating it—she’s 
eating it!” Betsy, startled, looked where 
the fork pointed, and her heart pounded. 

“Oh, the horrid, horrid thing!” she mur¬ 
mured, but she did not stir. She was too much 
afraid of cows to budge. 

For it was a cow, a big brindle cow with a 
long tail, that had come unseen from the 
neighboring thicket and was nosing the new 
hat on the discarded pile of wraps and baskets. 
She seemed in doubt as to whether it was 
really as good as it looked, for she did not at 
once begin to chew the straw rim that 
she smelled so earnestly. 




84 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Oh, the horrid, horrid thing!” breathed 
Betsy in real terror. Nothing would have 
gotten her to move. She was quite paralyzed 
with fright. 

Then in the same breath she added another 
“Oh” in quite a different tone, for she saw 
in that instant Philip, who was nearest the 
marauder, fly to the rescue of the hat. He 
was not at all afraid of cows, it seemed. 

Down the slope he rushed, waving his arms 
and shouting with a suddenness that was 
amazing to the leisurely cow, who had barely 
time to look up when he was almost upon her. 
She did look up, however, and took one 
step, and it was then that Amiee laughed out 
loud. 

Philip, in his eagerness, shot down the 
incline with such speed that the slippery grass 
was like a toboggan, and at the bottom he 
flew straight across the little level, landing 
against the brindle sides of the amazed cow! 

Betsy cried out, but Amiee laughed aloud! 
And in a moment everyone else was laughing, 
too. For the cow, frightened and frantic, 
flung up her head with a wild bellow and took 
to her heels with a speed that was amazing. 



Betsy Does Her Best 


85 


She did not stop to see whether her assailant 
was pursuing, but she crashed away through 
the underbrush, tail erect and nostrils flaunt¬ 
ing, too terrified to know where she was going. 

After she had disappeared into the depths 
of the thicket and Philip had picked up him¬ 
self and the sailor hat, it was found that 
neither had sustained any injury, and the 
supper was served amid much merriment and 
teasing. Amiee alone lapsed into her usual 
quiet state. But Betsy had heard her laugh 
and she was more hopeful of the interview 
between her mother and the newcomer. 

As the meal went on she edged over to 
Philip, who was her next-door neighbor at 
the feast. 

“Did she tell Mother while I was away or 
when she was helping her with bread and 
butter a bit ago?” she asked in a low tone. 
“Has she done it yet?” 

Philip shook his head. 

“Never piped a note after you left,” he 
returned in the same whisper. “She’s a queer 
fish, isn’t she? She seems sort of afraid of 
people. I guess she can’t get up her nerve to 
talk much at a stretch. We’ll have to give her 
time.” 



86 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy nodded. She was easily satisfied. 
She knew that there was plenty of time ahead 
of them. “She can talk to her after we get 
home/’ she thought comfortably. “There’ll 
be a whole hour and a half till bed-time.” 

She gave herself up to real enjoyment after 
that, and they finished their very early supper 
with the last long rays of the red sunset on 
their happy faces, while Philip laughed and 
teased and Selma chattered softly in their 
usual jolly way. They packed the things 
into the wagons,, and then Philip got the 
horses into the shafts and with the girls’ help 
soon had them ready for the homeward jour¬ 
ney. Mrs. Hale was to ride with Selma, and 
the others, in the larger wagon, were to lead 
the way. 

As they drove out into the road again, the 
twilight was falling and the afterglow red¬ 
dened the tranquil sky. Betsy looked back 
at the buggy to wave a gay hand, and then 
she settled down on the back seat alone, well 
content with the afternoon’s excursion. 

All along the pleasant twilight road, while 
the glow faded and the stars came out far up 
overhead, she was thinking of the interesting 



Betsy Does Her Best 


87 


disclosure that was to be made after they had 
reached home. “Mother will just love to 
help,” she thought. “And she’ll be so nice 
about it, too. She always understands.” 

When they reached the Wee Corner and 
the baskets and things were deposited on the 
grass inside the palings, she bade a hasty 
good-night to Philip, who was lingering to 
see that Selma’s buggy reached the Worth¬ 
ington stable safely, and she fairly strained 
her arms lifting the big basket out of the 
buggy while her mother was alighting. She 
was in such a hurry for them to be gone and 
give Amiee her chance. 

“I’ll bring in the basket. Mother,” she 
called eagerly. “Amiee can help you with 
the wraps. She’ll want to talk it all over, I 
think.” 

She felt she had been very crafty indeed, 
and she smiled to herself in the darkness. 
For the life of her, though, she could not 
forbear cocking her ear to catch the words 
that began to tumble from Amiee’s lips as 
she went up the gravel path with her kind 
hostess. 

Betsy’s smile clouded and she frowned a 



88 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


bit as she heard the words distinctly. Amiee 
was not making good use of her time. She 
was saying something that was perfectly silly, 
according to Betsy’s flurried mind. 

“She’s actually asking for a garden bed of 
her own,” thought Betsy, disappointed beyond 
words. “What a waste of time!” 

Amiee was asking for a garden bed, and was 
specifying the spot where she wanted it. “ At 
the side of the house, Madame,” she was say¬ 
ing in quite an eager voice. “I should desire 
it of all things. A very little spot will suffice.” 

Mrs. Hale laughed good naturedly. “It’s 
rather late for gardening, my dear,” she 
replied, “but if it gives you any pleasure you 
may dig the entire side grassplot. It’s 
rather out of sight, though. Your garden 
won’t show much, I am afraid.” 

Amiee’s voice sounded relieved. “I am 
grateful, Madame,” she said with more feeling 
than Betsy had heard her use. “I shall begin 
my spade practice tomorrow.” 

That was all that was said. Amiee went 
up-stairs almost at once. She seemed agi¬ 
tated when she found that she had mislaid 
her key, but when it was discovered in the 



Betsy Does Her Best 


89 


pocket of her serviceable petticoat she fairly 
laughed in relief. “I am forgetting myself 
because of the picnic fete,” she said, lifting it 
out and fitting it in the lock. “I placed it 
there for the safety,” and then, with a brief 
good-night, she went quickly in and closed 
the door. 

Betsy stood for a moment looking at the 
door panels. There was a pucker of perplex¬ 
ity on her forehead. “She’s very strange,” 
she thought. “I never saw so strange a girl— 
with her keys and gardens and all that. I 
wonder why she didn’t tell Mother? I gave 
her plenty of chance.” 

She turned to her own door. 

“Well,” she said with a little laugh, “I did 
my best, even if it didn’t amount to much. 
I’ll try again in the morning. And I’ll ask her 
why she wants a garden at this time of year.” 



CHAPTER VI 


Amiee and Her Garden 

B ETSY had little satisfaction from her 
I questions to Amiee the next morning. 
“I want to be out of doors while the 
autumn makes itself so warm/’ she replied to 
Betsy’s interrogation. “I like it well to dig 
in the earth.” 

That was all there was to be said on the 
matter. Betsy gave it up. 

“I have thought of the matter of my 
mother,” went on Amiee evenly, “and I have 
come of the opinion that it is best to speak no 
more of her. I have dreamed a dream about 
her, and I wish no more sayings on her death 
or life.” 

Betsy shut her lips tight. She did not 
want to seem unfeeling, but she had no 
patience with dreams and superstitions. 

“You will tell that young gentleman, Philip, 
what I say?” she demanded, with her dark 
eyes straight on Betsy’s clear blue ones. “I 

( 90 ) 


Amiee and Her Garden 


91 


wish no more of talk of my mother. I think 
Madame Koot knew well what she told 
Madame. It is that I am orphaned for 
really.” 

Betsy promised, though her heart sank. 
If there was to be no pleasant mystery about 
the somber Amiee, it was going to be hard to 
keep up interest in her. However, she 
managed to impart her conviction to Philip 
that Amiee was very much in earnest about 
the matter, and was somewhat comforted by 
that cheerful youth’s indifference to the whole 
affair. He was deep in his examinations for 
the Preparatory School and had only a very 
fleeting interest in Amiee and her concerns. 

“It would have been fun for you, of course,” 
he said, as he slung his books together to go. 
He had been studying in the summer house 
while Betsy finished a problem she had 
flunked on that morning. Amiee was up-stairs 
in her locked room, and it was almost as 
though she were not in the Wee Corner at all. 

“It would have .been fun for you,” he 
repeated from the step. “She isn’t exactly 
what you’d call a thriller. But you’ll get 
used to her in time. I’ll be back tomorrow 
and tell you how I get on. So long.” 



92 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy watched him vault the palings and 
disappear. She felt very sorry to see him go. 
Selma was at school now from nine until two, 
and her careful hours of study, with the small 
occupations at home, took her still more from 
Betsy. 

“French orphans aren’t so very exciting, 
after all,” she sighed, as she went slowly back 
to the house. “I wonder if they’re all like 
Amiee?” 

The click of her mother’s typewriter was 
sounding as she went up-stairs. There was 
no hope in that quarter. Amiee’s door was 
locked and her invitation to a walk was 
curtly refused. “I’m tired,” said Amiee 
through the door. “I will repose myself 
until your return.” Betsy pinned on her hat 
with a scornful face. 

“She needs a garden pretty badly, I think,” 
she confided to the girl in the glass. “She 
simply sticks in that room every minute of 
the day. Lucy can’t ever get in there to 
clean that window. She’ll be sick if she keeps 
it up like this.” 

She would not go to Emma Clara’s in her 
discontented mood, and so she made her way 



Amiee and Her Garden 


93 


to Miss Willie’s tangled garden, and sat beside 
the well in the flicker vine-leaves and with the 
sweet smell of the tall ferns coming up on 
every breath that stirred. It was a long time 
before she was serene enough to fancy that 
she saw the Nickleman come dripping up to 
the well-curb to begin one of those imaginary 
conversations she had with him. She enjoyed 
it when it began, however. Perhaps all the 
more for its contrast to Amiee’s stolid 
silences. 

When she rose to go she smiled and waved 
her hand to the crinkling water in the depths 
of the old well. Her face, broken into vivid 
pieces by the motion of the leaf-stirred water, 
laughed up at her in the old way. She went 
out of the gate well pleased. “When Miss 
Willie comes home for good and all,” she 
planned happily, “I’ll see the Inner Court 
again.” 

She fell to planning other things as she went 
home over the thick clover fields of the short 
cut. She was recovering from the damper of 
Amiee’s indifference and was her own eager 
self again. She thought of the talk in the 
boat yesterday and a sudden resolve formed 
in her active mind. 



94 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“I’ll try to find Amiee’s mother myself,” 
she said with a quirk of her head. “I don’t 
know how I’ll begin, but I’m going to do it, 
and I shan’t breathe a word to a living soul.” 

She was so elated by her secret resolve that 
she did not lose her spirits even though Amiee 
appeared at the dinner table in the same indif¬ 
ferent mood as before, and Mrs. Hale, deep 
in a new thought for her next day’s work, 
hardly spoke during the meal. She talked 
cheerfully through the evening, too, and was 
quite well pleased with her project, even after 
she viewed it by the light of her own bed¬ 
room candle. 

“I’ll go very quietly about it,” she said to 
herself. “And oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful 
if I could find her mother for Amiee?” 

As she blew out the light she added, happily: 
“It isn’t so awfully bad to have a French 
orphan in the Wee Comer, after all.” 

The plan brightened the next few days, 
although nothing definite formed in her mind. 
It gave flavor to the rather monotonous com¬ 
panionship of Amiee and added zest to the 
daily round of lessons. Betsy felt she could 
take her time to arrange the manner of her 






Amiee and Her Garden 


95 


search for Madame LaLanne. She wanted 
to be quite sure she was beginning in the right 
way. 

“I think,” she said to herself as she stood 
at her window in the sunset glow a day or two 
after her visit to the Nickleman. “I think I 
shall write to Helen Bond and ask her to find 
out if Major Gordon had heard of any French 
people who have come over this summer. He 
knows everything that’s going on. Helen can 
keep a secret, too. But I won’t tell her who 
it is I want to look for. Not yet, anyway, 
ru-” 

She broke off as she saw down on the sun- 
flushed grass below her window a shadow pass. 
She leaned out to see Amiee with a spade 
going swiftly to the other side of the house. 
Betsy chuckled to herself as she drew back. 

“That’s a queer notion of gardening,” she 
said to herself. “Starting in at almost dark to 
dig a flower bed in October. She’s a funny 
girl. I suppose she’d be cross if I spoke about 
it, though.” 

The temptation to tease Amiee was great, 
but when she met her before dinner coming 
up to wash the soil from her hands, she said 





96 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


not a word about her ill-timed gardening. 
“I’m going to be perfectly sweet to her/’ she 
said, as she got out fresh towels for her from 
the bath-room closet. “I mustn’t forget that 
she may be a real orphan after all.” 

Her new resolution helped her wonderfully 
that evening, and she was still revolving it in 
her mind when she went up to bed. Amiee 
had wished to retire early, pleading fatigue. 
“From spading up that flower bed in a hurry, 
when she isn’t used to work,” thought Betsy. 
“If she’d stir about more, instead of sitting 
locked up in her room, she’d do better.” 

Betsy got out her writing materials after 
she had closed her door. She was going to 
vrite the letter to Helen Bond, and she was 
glad she had plenty of time for the task. She 
found it rather more of an undertaking than 
she had expected, and she had filled five 
large sheets before the matter was accom¬ 
plished. She sealed the envelope with a sigh 
of satisfaction. 

“I’ll drop it in myself tomorrow,” she said, 
yawning. “I’ve made a beginning, anyway.” 

She blew out the light and dropped on her 
knees by the window, thinking of all that 



Amiee and Her Garden 


97 


might come of that bulky envelope. She was 
so absorbed in her imaginings that she had no 
idea how the time fled. Everything was very 
quiet in the house below. The wind had 
risen with the young moon, but it was dying 
again as the bright silver crescent dropped to 
the horizon. 

Suddenly a creaking sound made Betsy’s 
heart stand still. 

It was outside of her door and it sounded as 
though someone were on the stair. She was 
so startled for the moment that she could not 
stir. Before she could gain the use of her 
feet the sounds died away and all was still 
again. 

“It was the wind,” thought Betsy, relieved 
and practical. “It makes queer sounds 
sometimes.” 

Then she though it might have been her 
mother coming up for help in another fainting 
spell such as she had had last summer. That 
brought her to her door like a flash. “Oh, if 
she were ill again!” she breathed. 

The stair was quiet when she looked down. 
The light in the bath-room threw a ray across 
the hallway. She could see her mother’s door 



98 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


ajar and, stealing part of the way down, could 
hear her even, soft breathing. 

“She’s all right,” she said thankfully, and 
then she crept back to her own room, con¬ 
vinced that she had heard only the stirring of 
the wind. “Old houses always creak,” she 
thought. “I remember how the kitchen used 
to purr when the March wind blew.” 

She knelt by the window for a while, enjoy¬ 
ing the sounds of the rustling leaves. The 
church clock struck and she counted. Twelve 
o’clock! 

She slipped out of her clothes and was get¬ 
ting into bed when another sound caught her 
ear. It was unmistakable. Someone was 
digging under her window! 

She sprang from bed and flew to the dormer 
window. The grassy level beneath was empty 
in the faint setting moonlight. She stared 
and rubbed her eyes. Then she started again. 
The sound came from the other side of the 
house. 

“It’s—it’s in Amiee’s flower bed,” she 
gasped, straining out to see. 

The windoW-sill almost cut her in two and 
she stared with all her might, but all that she 



Amiee and Her Garden 


99 


could see was the corner of the house. The 
flower bed was around the corner. She drew 
herself inside. Her mind was in a riot. She 
had no explanation of the sound. 

“Unless Amiee has gone crazy with grief, 
and is digging in the moonlight,” she flashed. 
“Selma says they’re always worse in moon¬ 
light, too.” 

While she was standing in the middle of the 
floor hesitating as to what she should do, she 
distinctly heard the front door lock click. 
Instantly she was at her door again, peering 
out, ready to fling herself downward to pro¬ 
tect her sleeping mother’s open doorway, if 
need be. 

She had a shock when, after an interval, 
when the wind blew a fitful farewell, a short 
square figure in a familiar cloak appeared in 
the strip of light from the bath-room door. 

It was Amiee herself! 

Betsy drew her door to a crack and then 
waited to see that the figure did not pause at 
her mother’s door. It came straight up 
towards the landing, where she peeped through 
the tiny crack of her door. A pause while the 
hidden hands fumbled for the key, then the 


9 


) 


) 




100 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


slightest rattle of a lock turning, a soft, hur¬ 
ried closing of the opposite door, and the land¬ 
ing was empty and Betsy was alone again. 

She listened for a moment, hearing nothing 
now save the beating of her own heart and 
Lucy’s heavy breathing from the back bed¬ 
room. Then she softly crept over to the 
opposite door and tied the girdle of her bath¬ 
robe firmly to the knob. When she closed her 
own door the stout twisted cotton rope was 
shut tightly into the crack, and the end was 
fastened firmly to Betsy’s bedpost. 

“ She’s a lunatic, after all,” she said as she 
knelt down for her belated prayers,” and I’m 
not going to have her getting out and doing 
damage if I can help it.” 

Then she slipped into bed and in spite of 
her excitement began to feel drowsy. “I’ll 
watch till the clock strikes again,” she 

thought, “and then I’ll—I’ll—I’ll-” 

She never finished her threat, for in about 
two minutes she was fast asleep. 


* 5 

i t <■ 




CHAPTER VII 


The Doctor’s Verdict 

W HEN Betsy awoke the next morning 
she had her hand on the tight cord 
at the bedpost. Her first 
thought was of Amiee. 

“I mustn’t let her out till I can watch her,” 
she thought, tumbling out of bed. “There’s 
no knowing what she may do.” 

She softly undid her door and tiptoed 
downstairs. Her mother’s room was closed 
and, early as it was, the typewriter was at 
work. Betsy knew that meant the bolt was 
in its place. “She’s safe, anyway,” she 
thought, well content. 

She splashed through her bath with one 
ear on the floor above. She was in her own 
room again and dressing hurriedly before the 
clock over the hill boomed out the hour. 
“Seven,” she counted, and thanked her stars 
that Amiee was usually a late riser. 

As soon as she was fully dressed, she undid 

(ioi) 


102 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


the rope from her bed-head and crept over to 
the opposite door and, with deft fingers, she 
noiselessly undid the knot. Then she went 
back to her own room and sat down on the 
chair nearest the open door. 

‘Til see that she doesn't get away from me 
this morning,” she said with a firm lip. “She 
may be perfectly raving by this time, though 
she’s wonderfully quiet for a crazy person.” 

About twenty minutes later she began to 
hear sounds in Amiee’s room. At first her 
agitated imagination magnified them into 
gruesome noises, but soon her common sense 
came to the front. “She is just as quiet as 
ever,” she thought, listening to the subdued 
splash of water from the bowl. Amiee had 
her washstand and pitcher to herself. “She 
must be one of the creepy sort.” 

When the door opened and the French girl 
came out on the landing Betsy started up in 
genuine surprise. She had been expecting a 
wild-eyed Amiee, even after her common- 
sense verdict. She thought she had never 
seen Amiee so quiet and contented looking. 
She actually smiled at Betsy sitting in her 
watchful chair. 




The Doctor’s Verdict 


103 


“It is a morning of much pleasantness, is 
it not?” she said, and she came over to Betsy’s 
doorway, leaving her own door unlocked. 
Betsy could see the neatly turned down bed 
covers through the crack. 

Betsy jumped up and went closer. She was 
not going to be thrown off her guard by 
assumed sociability. “Are you quite well 
this morning?” she asked with a searching 
look. She thought Amiee looked different 
somehow, but she could not decide just what 
the difference was. Lunatics were hard to 
deal with when they were of this sort. 

Amiee opened her somber eyes wide. She 
appeared uneasy for a second. Then she 
turned and went calmly downstairs. “Iam 
more well than since the arrival of myself in 
your America,” she said, and her voice 
sounded as though she meant it. 

“She’s awfully cunning,” thought Betsy as 
she followed her. “But I shan’t leave her 
out of my sight until I see how she behaves 
toward Mother. It isn’t safe, for all her 
smiles.” 

It was not a hard task to keep Amiee in 
view. She went quietly to the sitting-room 





104 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


and took up a magazine, settling herself to 
wait for Mrs. Hale’s appearance for breakfast. 
Betsy, at the side window, was almost impa¬ 
tient of her calm exterior. It did not match 
with that moonlight escapade of last night. 

She stood twiddling the string of the 
window-shade and casting furtive glances at 
the absorbed Amiee from time to time. A 
gust of wind shook the leaves from the dog¬ 
wood tree against the window and she looked 
out with a start. She was on edge for startling 
sensations. She saw only Mac, however, and 
he was sauntering about the side grass-plot, 
without any apparent object in life. 

As her gaze went back to Amiee she gave a 
start. Amiee was looking out of the window 
over the pages of her book, and her face 
changed from calm to sudden anger. 

“That mechant brute-beast!” she cried 
shrilly, and was out of the house in a twinkling. 

Betsy, at her heels, saw Mac industriously 
beginning a hole in the fresh earth where the 
mysterious gardening had taken place. She 
saw Amiee rush upon him with vigorous cuffs 
and slaps. She saw Mac retreat, astonished 
and dismayed and Amiee fall on her knees 



The Doctor’s Verdict 


105 


beside the damaged bed, smoothing the earth 
into place with her hands. 

“He is of the blackest heart! He chooses 
to expose me!” she cried, and Betsy was 
alarmed to see how she was trembling. 

“She’s quite mad,” she thought, in a fright. 
“Oh, how dreadful it will be!” 

Amiee seemed to recover herself with great 
rapidity. She straightened the stalks of a 
drooping goldenrod displaced by Mac’s paws, 
and brushing the soil from her skirts she 
stood up. “I have made the beginning of an 
untamed garden, and he disturbed my new 
planting,” she said with a flush that Betsy 
took for shame. “I am not to have my 
flowers deranged, without action.” 

Betsy looked at the drooping goldenrod 
and the wispy Michealmas daisies that stood 
in a small forlorn row in the fresh earth. “I 
didn’t know you were so fond of flowers,” she 
said, recalling the faded white asters of Mon¬ 
day morning. 

Amiee flashed a look at her. “I adore these 
plantings,” she returned with emphasis. “I 
want that no one, no one should disturb them.” 

Betsy raised her eyebrows. “I guess 



106 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


nobody will want to steal them,” she said, 
and then she felt that she had been too sar¬ 
castic, until she saw the pleased gleam in 
Amiee’s eye. That determined her afresh. 
“She must be crazy to act like she does,” she 
thought. “I’ll have to keep on the watch, 
and make up my mind what to do.” 

Her task was a very easy one, for Amiee 
behaved in her usual quiet manner. She 
seemed a shade more sociable than before, 
but there was no other change in her. Break¬ 
fast and lesson passed in their customary 
fashion. Amiee went through her morning 
duties with calm decorum. Betsy thought 
she caught that gleam of light in her eyes more 
than once, but there was no other sign. At 
twelve o’clock Betsy’s vigilance relaxed. She 
had decided on her course of action. 

She left Amiee studying in her room, and 
she slipped out by the back way. Her path led 
her up the winding road and across the hilly 
short cut to Dr. Stanton’s house. She found 
Emma Clara at home among her pretty new 
belongings. She stayed nearly half an hour 
and when she left Emma Clara came to the 
door with her. 





The Doctor’s Verdict 


107 


“Bring her over about half-past three,” 
she said. “Then we’ll have time to go over 
to the hospital before four and we can be back 
here for tea in good time. I’ll see that the 
Doctor looks her over pretty thoroughly. 
You want to be very sure.” 

Betsy was late for lunch. She was relieved 
to see that Amiee showed no signs of agitation 
or unrest, and that Mrs. Hale was serenely 
unconscious of everything save her own 
thoughts. “She’s not broken out again while 
I was away, and that’s a mercy,” said Betsy 
thankfully. “I hope she’ll be reasonable 
about going over to Emma Clara’s for tea.” 

Amiee was very reasonable. She showed 
none of her late reluctance to leave her room. 
She even said she should like to go. When 
she learned that Selma was to be of the party 
she made no protest. 

When Betsy went to freshen up for the 
visit, she was surprised to see Lucy in the 
room opposite, cleaning away vigorously at 
the long delayed window, while Amiee pinned 
on her everyday hat at the mirror over the 
dresser. When Amiee walked downstairs 
after her, leaving the door unlocked, Betsy 
reminded her of the omission. 



108 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Amiee only shook her head. “I am not 
fearful now,” she said with a sort of triumph in 
her tone. “I allow the key to make a rest of 
itself.” 

Betsy glanced keenly at her. ‘'She’s 
surely mad,” she thought. “She’s changing a 
lot all the time.” 

Under this impression she was glad when 
Selma joined them on their way and hastened 
the pace. “I have to be back early,” she 
explained. “I’ve such a pack of problems 
for tomorrow that I’ll have to sit up all night 
unless I’m at them before supper.” 

Emma Clara welcomed them with pleasant 
hospitality. She made Amiee feel at home at 
once, it seemed, for when she proposed a visit 
to the hospital in which they had all been so 
much interested, Amiee was one of the first 
to rise. 

“I have heard of your American hospitals, 
and it would make pleasure to me to see one,” 
she said earnestly. “Is it that one can see it 
entire?” 

Emma Clara assured her that she should 
see everything there was to be seen. Dr. 
Stanton would be in the dispensary until 



The Doctor’s Verdict 


109 


nearly four, and they could even see that, she 
told her. 

Betsy felt rather mean when she saw how 
eager Amiee was to reach the hospital. “She 
doesn’t dream we’re taking her there on pur¬ 
pose,” she managed to whisper to Emma 
Clara as they went up the gravel path to the 
cheerful little hospital. 

She felt meaner still when Amiee, after 
surveying operating room and X-ray depart¬ 
ment, became interested and began to ask 
questions, almost like any other girl. In the 
kitchen her attention was diverted. Mrs. 
Delaney, after welcoming them and explain¬ 
ing her utensils to the newcomer, drew Betsy 
aside to tell her proudly that Jimmy was 
“doin’ gran’. Mon^y every week reg’lar as 
the sun. That pore craytur had a re-lapse and 
Jimmy’s got his job for good, and he’s a reel 
elyphant driver now for sure. He’s a-comin’ 
home next Toosday for a bit of a visit. He’s 
tendin’ the camiels, too,” she ended 
triumphantly. 

In Miss Willie’s room, too, there was some 
news. Miss Willie, while the others were 
admiring the view from the south window, 



110 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


whispered to Betsy that she was thinking of 
celebrating her returning health by a party— 
actually a party. “I shall not have a soul 
who was not my friend in former times,” she 
said very positively. Miss Willie’s popular¬ 
ity had grown greatly since her gift of the 
hospital house. “The good Philip will be 
through those delayed examinations soon, and 
I shall then announce it. Until then we will 
not speak of it,” and she laid her finger on her 
lips as Selma turned with a question about 
her last library book. 

Betsy’s eyes were dancing as they went 
down the sunny white corridor, but they 
sobered at the sight of a young woman with a 
baby in her arms coming out of a door on the 
right. The word Dispensary was painted 
over it in clear black letters and Dr. Stanton 
was seated at the desk just inside the door. 
“He’s ready for Amiee,” thought Betsy in 
sudden panic. “Oh, dear, I feel like a per¬ 
fect cheat, doing it on the sly like this.” 

Emma Clara was ushering them into the 
clean, business-like room, with its shelves and 
jars and bottles. She had introduced Amiee 
to the Doctor before Betsy had recovered 



The Doctor’s Verdict 


111 


herself, and was explaining playfully the 
charts and electric system, when the Doctor 
interrupted her. 

“You’d best let me show Miss Amiee how 
they work,” he said with his nice smile. 
“You take the others off—they’re old hands 
at this place—and I’ll explain properly. It’s a 
small room. Miss Amiee, but it has a good 
many points of interest,” and he swung open 
the nearest cabinet, while Amiee stepped 
close to inspect its contents. She seemed 
deeply absorbed. 

; “I feel like a thief,” whispered Betsy to 
Emma Clara as they went out through the 
consulting room. “She doesn’t suspect a 
thing!” 

Nothing more could be said, since Selma 
was not in the secret, and they spent the next 
half hour visiting in the small free ward, 
where they were welcomed eagerly, and 
Betsy’s particular friend of the moment, a 
small bent old woman in a night-cap kept her 
well occupied with stories of her early days 
in the old country, until the Doctor appeared 
with Amiee. 

He drew Emma Clara into an alcove for a 

/ 




112 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


few words, and then, with a pleasant good¬ 
bye and hearty handshake he left them. 

After they were back in Emma Clara’s 
cozy living-room Betsy had an opportunity 
to hear Doctor’s Stanton’s verdict. Emma 
Clara sent Selma to show Amiee the fern 
book in the library—Mrs. Stanton was really 
very proud of her collection—and then she 
gave Betsy the message. 

“He said to tell you she was absolutely 
normal,” she repeated. “She may be con¬ 
fused by the strange customs here, but her 
mind is as clear as a bell. You needn’t be 
afraid of anything she does, for it rises merely 
from the difference in our customs and her 
own.” 

Betsy was relieved and yet her perplexity 
increased. It might have been easier to 
explain Amiee’s actions had she really been 
insane. “She’s rather queer, though,” she 
murmured thoughtfully. She was thinking 
of the moonlight digging. 

Emma Clara smiled comfortably. It is 
easy to solve other people’s perplexities. 
“She isn’t used to our ways yet,” she told 
Betsy, as she lighted the samovar. “She’ll 



The Doctor’s Verdict 


113 


be quite one of us in a month or so, you may 
be sure,” she added after the blaze was going. 
“But she is rather quiet, isn’t she?” 

Selma and Amiee appeared and there was 
no more chance for confidential talk. It 
seemed that the ferns had not proved very 
attractive to the French girl. She was very 
quiet during the tea hour, too, and she hardly 
spoke a word on the homeward trip. 

Selma and Betsy made up for her, however, 
and Jimmy Delaney’s visit was discussed with 
interest. “I do hope Philip will be home 
then,” said Betsy, as they stopped at the 
branching pathways of the short cut to part 
from Selma. “He’d like to hear about Mr. 
MacTavish and all the rest of the circus. He 
knew them pretty well, you know.” 

Selma nodded. Her mind was on Jimmy 
Delaney. She had not give up her old opin¬ 
ion as to his abilities. 

“He may drive elephants and he may learn 
to ride camels,” she said, “but he’ll never, 
never learn to be a wild animal tamer. You 
have to study them in their lairs and trap 
them, too, before you can learn to tame 
them.” 


8 




114 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy did not argue the point. She knew 
Selma too well. She merely laughed and 
said, “It will be fun to see Jimmy again, 
anyway. “He’ll have lots to tell, for he’s 
been traveling ever since he left here.” 

After they had said good-bye and were on 
the winding road coming down past the 
thicket, Amiee broke her long silence. “Who 
is Jimmee Delanee?” she asked. 

Betsy gave her a short history of the ver¬ 
satile Jimmy, on which Amiee made no com¬ 
ment. They walked on briskly and were 
soon at the gate of the Wee Corner. The 
sun was glinting on the western windows and a 
few yellow leaves were drifting down from the 
sycamore back of the barn. 

Betsy felt a lifting of the heart as she laid 
her hand on the flag-path gate. 

“I’m awfully glad that Amiee isn’t really 
insane,” she thought thankfully. “It’s a 
great load off of my mind.” 

Her brow puckered, however, when she saw 
Amiee make her usual trip to the side of the 
house before going indoors. 

“Perhaps it is French to be so daffy over a 
dried-up, frost-bitten bit of garden bed,” she 




The Doctor’s Verdict 


115 


said to herself as she followed Amiee into the 
house. “It’s very, very queer, though. I 
wonder what she’ll do next?” 



CHAPTER VIII 


Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 

“J GUESS the Doctor was right. She 
I hasn’t done anything very queer since 
^ that night,” said Betsy. 

She was in the cheerful reception room at 
the hospital, talking to Emma Clara. She 
had run over to ask Mrs. Delaney the exact 
hour when Jimmy was to be expected and had 
met Mrs. Stanton on her way out. 

Emma Clara smiled. “ People often do odd 
things when they’re out of sorts,” she said 
easily, and she dropped the subject. ^“1 sup¬ 
pose you’re going to be on hand for Jimmy 
today? He certainly means to see everyone 
he knows in town. Mis, Delaney tells me he 
sent word that he was coming in by the Lime¬ 
kiln Road, and for people to be on the look¬ 
out for him.” 

“He’s just the same old Jimmy as ever,” 
laughed Betsy. “Do you remember how he 
rode the trick donkey in our parade last 

( 116 ) 





Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 


117 


spring? He does love to show off, doesn’t 
he? I’m going to ask Mother if we mayn’t 
go out to meet him. Selma has the buggy 
and-” 

Here the old woman with the frilled night¬ 
cap shuffled into sight, and Betsy, fearful of 
being detained, slipped out of the other door 
and away towards the Wee Corner. “Fll 
ask Mother and then run over and tell Selma,” 
she said as she skipped along. “Amiee may 
not want to go very much, but she’ll just have 
to. I’m not going to miss Jimmy if I can 
help it. He’s such fun.” 

It was a week after her visit to the dispen¬ 
sary with Amiee and, as she had told Emma 
Clara, nothing very particular had happened. 
Amiee kept her habit of visiting her wilting 
garden bed every time she came out or went 
in, and she had developed a passion for news¬ 
paper reading. Otherwise she was settling 
down to the routine of everyday life at the 
Wee Corner with something like placidity. 
She tolerated Selma with a better grace than 
at first. She welcomed Philip’s rare visits 
with more warmth than she displayed to 
anyone else. She even showed less disdain 




118 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


for Lucy than Betsy expected. Her room, too, 
was always unlocked now and the key lay 
neglected on the dresser. 

“She isn’t exactly friendly yet,” Betsy had 
told her mother hopefully that very morn¬ 
ing, “but she isn’t so sort of hard-shelled as 
she was when she first came.” 

As she hurried along she repeated her 
words. “She’ll just have to go,” and she was 
prepared to have to use great persuasion with 
Amiee when she told her of the projected 
drive to meet Jimmy. 

To her surprise Amiee showed no reluc¬ 
tance. “I shall be ingratiate to see the 
traveler,” she said calmly, and she went for 
her things at once. Betsy had to call her 
back to tell her that they were not to start 
till after lunch, if they were to be allowed to 
go at all. When Betsy made her request 
Amiee seconded it with a faint, “If you 
please, Madame.” 

Of course they were allowed to go. Mrs. 
Hale declared she should like to be one of the 
party herself if it were not that she had to 
spend the afternoon in town with the Emer¬ 
gency Aid, where she had promised to give a 



Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 119 


talk. Selma arrived promptly after lunch and 
they started off in good season. 

“ We’ll go out as far as the Five Points,” 
said Selma, clucking to old Dolly. “We can 
see ever so far down the Limekiln Road from 
that hump where the other roads come in. 
Oh, get up, Dolly, do! You’re such a poke!” 

Betsy sat forward on the seat, tingling 
with eagerness. Amiee settled herself sedately 
back against the padded back, while Selma, 
erect and intent, twitched the reins impa¬ 
tiently. “Go on, Dolly,” she cried. “We’ll 
never get there if you don’t wake up.” 

They turned the corner into the main 
street before Betsy moved or spoke. Then 
she started into action. “That horrid sneak¬ 
ing Spot!” she cried energetically, catching 
out the whip. “Do make Dolly go faster, 
Selma, so I can get a whack at him.” 

Selma tugged at the reins, but Dolly refused 
to obey. Instead she stopped quite still and 
shook her head reproachfully at the ugly dog 
who had rushed out from the sidewalk and 
was jumping and snapping at her. Betsy’s 
whip thrashed about fiercely, and at last she 
managed to touch the bouncing, growling 



120 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


creature with the tip of the lash, and Spot 
retreated, tail between his legs, to the shelter 
of the nearest tree, where he stood, with his 
hair on end and his long white teeth showing 
in a menacing line. 

“He’s a perfect nuisance,” declared Betsy 
as Dolly moved off. “I don’t see why he’s 
allowed to bother people so. He goes for 
every team that goes through the village. 
I wish some automobile would scare him to 
death some day.” 

“He is a mighty mean creature,” agreed 
Selma. “Most every town has a dog like 
that, though. What are you going to do 
about it, when Mrs. Tubbs won’t try to make 
him stop? She says he’s a good watch-dog 
and she don’t want his spirit broke,” 

Betsy sniffed. “He’s a coward, and he 
runs a mile to keep away from Mac every 
time,” she replied. “He wouldn’t have 
spunk enough to bark at a burglar, and I 
know it. He only bites the littlest children, 
and he snaps them up at their heels.” 

Selma took things more calmly than Betsy. 
She slapped the reins on Dolly’s broad back. 
“Oh, well, he’ll get his dose some day, I 



Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 


121 


guess/’ she remarked placidly. “Those dogs 
always get run over, or something. Aren’t 
those swamp maples pretty? The top 
branches are as red as red can be.” 

The beauties of the autumn foliage all along 
the way kept them intent on the waysides, 
and they came to the Five Points before they 
knew it. Betsy strained her eyes eagerly and 
Selma stood up in the buggy. The road lay 
empty in the mellow sunshine, a white ribbon 
between the vivid colors of its hedges. 

“He’s very late,” remarked Betsy, and a 
pucker came between her brows. 

“Perhaps he isn’t coming,” suggested 
Selma, who sometimes looked on the darker 
side. 

“Jimmy isn’t that sort—” began Betsy, 
when they both gave a squeak of surprise. 

A figure was coming over the last misty 
incline. 

“There he is!” cried Selma. 

“He’s riding a horse,” added Betsy. “Oh, 
I do hope it’s a trained horse that can do 
tricks!” 

Amiee said nothing. She kept her eyes on 
the approaching figure. “It is not a horse 



122 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


that your Jimmee rides upon/’ she inter¬ 
posed gravely. “It is of a color un-horselike. 
See.” 

They had to confess it was not a horse when 
the figure grew more distinct. Selma sat 
down suddenly as Dolly pricked up her ears and 
moved uneasily. Betsy caught her breath as 
she cried out her discovery. 

“It’s a camel!” she told them. “A real 
live cam-” 

She got no further in her news. Dolly 
discovered at that same instant what sort of a 
beast was loping so swiftly towards her on 
the smooth white Limekiln Road. There 
was a snort, a leap and then the buggy tore 
off up the branching Greenville Road. 

“She’s running away,” gasped Selma, per¬ 
fectly paralyzed by the stupendous fact. 
“Dolly’s running away!” 

Betsy put a firm hand on Amiee’s shoulder 
to keep her to her seat. “Don’t dare to 
jump,” she commanded. “Sit still. Selma 
won’t let you get hurt.” 

She was not at all sure of the truth of her 
words as she uttered them, but they had their 
effect. Amiee sank back with her eyes glued 




Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 


123 


on Selma and the flying Dolly. “It is of a 
suddenness,” she whispered through her white 
lips. 

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” cried Selma, tak¬ 
ing command in an instant. “Dolly, do you 
hear me? Stop, this instant!” 

It may have been that Dolly heard more 
clearly than usual, or it may have been that 
she found her joints too stiff for such activity. 
Whatever the reason, she soon slowed to a 
trot and then to a slower and slower amble 
until she stood quite still beneath a tree at 
the beginning of Ladd’s Woods, about a 
quarter of a mile from the Five Points 
cross-roads. 

Selma got out and felt her bridle, looked at 
her other harness to see that nothing was 
injured, and then patted Dolly’s nose with a 
sudden flush of pride. 

“I didn’t think you had it in you, old lady,” 
she said approvingly. “You can go when 
you’ve a mind, can’t you? Why, what’s the 
matter now? ” she added hastily as she grabbed 
the bridle with firm hands. “What are you 
up to now?” 

Dolly was shivering and trembling 



124 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


strangely. There was a padding sound in the 
soft, dusty road behind. Selma saw the big 
tawny bulk of Jimmy’s strange steed heaving 
swiftly towards them. 

“Hold up, Jimmy. Don’t come any 
nearer,” she called. “Dolly’s scared to fits, 
can’t you see? Oh, the stupid,” she ended 
sharply, and she gripped the bridle tighter 
than ever. 

Betsy peered out around the side curtain 
just in time to see the big camel with its 
queer saddle and Jimmy Delaney on top of it, 
heave past at a rapid rate. She saw Dolly 
shiver, and then pick up her ears as Jimmy 
turned the camel and brought it to a halt. 

“Dolly will simply die” she whispered and 
took a fresh hold on Amiee’s shoulder. 

Dolly, however, did no such thing. She 
cocked her little ears forward as the camel 
came to a standstill. She sniffed gingerly at 
the tainted air. She shook her head as hard 
as she could for Selma’s clutch on her mouth, 
and then she became resigned. She looked 
earnestly at the ungainly brute on the other 
side of the road, but she did not offer to run 
away again. Even when Selma relaxed her 




Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 125 


hold on the bridle, she merely stared at the 
camel and stood perfectly still. 

“She’s all right now,” called Jimmy from 
his perch on the tall hump. “Wait till I get 
off. We’ll make them acquainted.” 

He was not in the least disturbed about 
causing the runaway. He was just as cheerful 
about it as though it were the regular part of 
an afternoon drive. “Here, I’ll show you,” 
he said, nodding pleasantly to Selma, who 
frowned slightly and muttered something 
about “animal trainers” and “lairs,” and put 
her hand again on Dolly’s bridle. 

Jimmy made a harsh, purring sound and 
slowly his steed began to fold up his many 
joints. First his big knees and then his hind 
legs and then the front ones again, and so on 
until he was huddled on the dusty road, with¬ 
out a sign of legs about him. Then Jimmy 
stepped off and surveyed him proudly. 

“Ain’t he a peach?” he declaimed. “Why, 
there ain’t another dromedary like him this 
side of—here, you, don’t try that on me!” he 
ended angrily, as the camel, with a swift 
motion, made a snap at him. “He’s sort of 
grouchy because he’s been on the move for 



126 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


three days runnin’,” he explained, stepping a 
bit further from his pet’s reach. “We’ve 
been movin’ pretty fast, and he’s been 
paradin’ extra duty around the streets, besides 
showin’ off in the after-show at nights. He’s 
sort of on edge, you see, bein’ sort of wore out 
for sleep.” 

The camel proved his words by drooping 
his eyelids in a particularly scornful fashion. 
He looked as though the sight of Dolly and 
the buggy and the girls made him very sick. 
His under lip sagged disgustedly, and he gave 
a contemptuous grunt as he closed his vicious 
little eyes to shut out the whole scene. 

Jimmy looked at him with undiminished 
pride. “He’s a regular express train,” he 
boasted. “He can make over fifty miles a 
day. What do you think of that? And he 
never gets regularly tired. He gets sort of 
edgey and snaps about a bit, but he never 
gets tired, like horses and things. That’s 
why I came on him. Make good time and 
advertise the show, too.” 

He showed them the lettering that their 
agitation had overlooked. “Top Notch 
Circus” in black characters on the red saddle 



Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 


127 


cloth. “ Makes ’em stare when they see 
that,” he told them. “All the towns I come 
through just sat up and took notice. Sahib 
took the shine off of everything we passed.” 

Betsy stared at the great supercilious 
brute with eager interest. “He’s perfectly 
wonderful,” she admitted. “Such a splendid 
saddle, too. How did they let you have him, 
Jimmy? I should think they’d be afraid to 
let him go so far away with just you.” 

Jimmy grinned. “I’m his keeper,” he told 
her with a triumphant cock of his head. “I 
take care of old Bolivar and this here drome¬ 
dary. I’m a regular hand at the business, 
and I’m to start in next month helpin’ Blin- 
kins train the new elephant we got last week. 
I’m cornin’ on, you see.” 

Selma pursed her mouth. She did not 
approve such complacency. She turned to 
Amiee, who was staring at Jimmy with real 
interest. “Well, we’d best be going back,” 
she said quietly. “The people will be waiting, 
and they may go home if you don’t come.” 

Jimmy’s freckled face lighted up with a 
beaming smile. “Did they get my word? 
Are they waitin’—honest?” he questioned 








128 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


eagerly. At Selma’s nod, he laughed aloud. 
“Gee, that’s white of ’em!” he exclaimed. 
“ I didn’t think they’d take the trouble. Here, 
let’s get in line. We’ll be movin’, I guess.” 

Dolly was cropping the leaves from an 
overhanging branch, and there was no need 
for further concern as to her. Selma turned 
to get into the buggy again and Jimmy stepped 
toward his crouching camel. “I’ll give you a 
good start,” he offered. “Dolly ain’t often 
so fast as she was a bit ago.” 

Suddenly Amiee leaned forward. “Par¬ 
don,” she said in a curious voice. Betsy 
thought she was frightened until she heard 
the next words. “Pardon, M’sieu Jimmee, 
is it that one could ride upon that camel- 
beast for a so little space of time? I shall love 
very much to make the effort.” 

The two girls were petrified. Jimmy him¬ 
self appeared astonished. He grinned, how¬ 
ever, with his usual good nature. “Sure,” 
he responded easily. “I’ll give you a turn if 
you’re so stuck on it.” 

Betsy saw with increasing surprise that 
Amiee’s face was quite white as she stepped 
down from the buggy to the camel’s side. 




Jimmy’s Joyful Entry 


129 


“She looks awfully frightened,” she thought, 
“but she really isn’t, I suppose, or she 
wouldn’t do it.” 

A memory of that moonlight digging crossed 
her mind as she watched Amiee cross the road 
to the scornful tawny beast crouching in the 
flicker of shadow and sunshine. “She’s hav¬ 
ing another attack,” she said to herself. “Dr. 
Stanton ought to see her now.” 

Jimmy showed the white-faced Amiee how 
to step on the camel’s neck with her left foot 
and right hand on the rear pommel of the 
saddle. When she was safely up and Jimmy 
had mounted in front of her, he gave the com¬ 
mand, “Hang on tight, for he’s sort of rough 
at first.” 

Then he loosened the rope and prodded the 
camel on the shoulder with his foot. The 
camel grunted scornfully and rose. Jimmy 
waved his cap as the big brute started evenly 
off towards the town. 

“We’ll wait for you at Chipley’s bridge,” 
he shouted. “She won’t want to go any 
further than that, I guess.” 

They watched the strange little group as 
the camel fell into his heaving onward surge. 


8 



130 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Amiee’s white face looked back at them for a 
moment and then vanished in the dust-cloud 
that followed. 

Betsy looked at Selma as she backed the 
docile Dolly for the turn toward the village. 

“Well!” she said emphatically. “What 
will she do next?” 

Selma was interested in the camel. She 
reached for the whip. 

“Dolly isn’t afraid of him any more, thank 
goodness,” she returned with animation. “I 
want to see the fun. Get up, Dolly, do!” 

Betsy gave a gasp. “Oh, there isn’t any 
danger?” she questioned in dismay. 

Selma giggled. “No, there isn’t any dan¬ 
ger, with Jimmy right there, but it will be 
awfully funny,” she told the relieved Betsy. 
“I’ve seen girls ride camels at the Moorish 
Street in the side-show at the Sconset Fair. 
Get up, Dolly!” 



CHAPTER IX 


Amiee Takes a Ride 


w 


E’VE missed the fun, after all,” 
said Selma in gentle surprise. 


They could see Jimmy and 


Amiee standing in the shadow of the trees by 
the bridge while the camel rested on the turf 
by the wayside. He was doubled up in his 
legless state, and his sneer was visible even 
from that distance. 

Betsy was genuinely glad to see, as they 
drew nearer, that Amiee was neither pale nor 
frightened. Her dark face was alive with 
interest, and she was talking earnestly with 
Jimmy, who appeared rather ill at ease. He 
welcomed them with relief. 

“I’ll meet you at the cross-roads. I’m 
going to loop around by the back way and 
drop in on the hospital. Mother’s on her 
job, and I’ve got to see her,” he told them, as 
he helped Amiee into the buggy with a rather 
bad grace. He whispered to Betsy hastily: 


( 131 ) 


132 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“She’s put me through the ropes, I tell you. 
Asked the names of all the towns I ever saw, 
and the folks in ’em, too.” And then with a 
wink to her and a wave to the others, he 
mounted the Sahib again and gave the signal. 

Dolly merely cocked her ears and watched 
placidly while the big camel, grunting 
viciously, rose and got under way. Selma 
looked at her approvingly. “She isn’t a bit 
afraid of him now,” she remarked as she 
shook the reins. “She’s got such a lot of 
sense, even if she is a poke.” 

Betsy, now that her mind was free from 
fear for Amiee, looked ahead with great 
expectancy. “We’ll have a hard time getting 
a good place if we don’t hurry,” she said 
suggestively. 

Selma took out the whip again. “We’ll 
get there before he does,” she replied firmly, 
and Dolly, hearing the familiar sound, started 
off at a good round pace. 

Clip-clop, clip-clop. On they went, past 
the bridge, past the woods, past the newly 
plowed fields of the Harris farm. They 
crept up the hill by the Methodist church 
and trotted down the incline past the Rectory. 



Amiee Takes a Ride 


133 


“What a lot of people,” cried Betsy glee¬ 
fully, as they came to the cross-roads and 
drew up in front of the store. “Everybody’s 
out to meet Jimmy. Oh, won’t they be 
surprised! ” 

Sure enough, everybody was there. Some 
of them were smiling and some of them were 
pretending to disapprove, but there they 
were, all of them. Mrs. Giles’ Sunday bon¬ 
net was next to old Mr. Thomson’s battered 
derby. Mr. Higbee was peering out of the 
side window of the store, while Mrs. Worth¬ 
ington was coming down the path in front of 
the large white house. Small boys on their 
way from school dangled their books by 
straps, tantalizing stray dogs, to the annoy¬ 
ance of the little girls who waited primly for 
the event. 

“There’s a line two deep along the curb, 
all the way up to the turn,” said Selma with 
relish. “My, won’t they enjoy that camel, 
though!” 

Spot was skulking through the scene, sniff¬ 
ing at the ankles that were temptingly dis¬ 
played, but making no attacks, perhaps 
because of the men and boys here and there 



134 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


in the line. He shambled around the heels 
of the two or three horses tied at the store 
rail, and then trotted off out of sight among 
the tall bushes of the ruined wagon shop on 
the opposite corner. 

The sound of wheels turned the attention 
of all to a dilapidated buggy rounding the 
corner by the store. A gaunt horse with a 
fiery eye was between the shafts and a red¬ 
nosed man sat on the tattered seat. It was 
Ned Watson, the ne’er-do-well farmer from 
the Corners, and he waved a genial hand to 
the assembly, steering his horse with prac¬ 
ticed ease among the cluster of wagons and 
people at the cross-roads. 

“Goin’ to the tavern at this time o’ day,” 
muttered a man near Betsy’s side of the road. 
“He’d ought to be workin’ for them kids o’ 
hisn, ’stid o’ loafin’ about like that.” 

A murmur ran through those nearest who 
heard the words, and the slight sound 
attracted the attention of the others. All 
eyes were fastened on Ned Watson and his 
shabby vehicle as they made their way up the 
road. Acquaintances among the crowd called 
hilarious greetings to the unabashed Ned, 



Amiee Takes a Ride 


135 


asking very pointedly where he was goin’ at. 
Ned grinned, slowed the fiery-eyed horse to a 
walk. 

“Til tell ye where I a-goin’ at,” he shouted 
joyfully in reply. “I’m a-goin’-” 

He broke off at a wild snort from the horse, 
who jumped and landed, four feet spread 
widely, and then stood staring with bulging 
eyes at the other end of the street. 

The big camel was swinging around the 
turn, with his under lip wagging impatiently 
and Jimmy sitting majestically on his back! 

“ Gosh a’mighty! ” screamed Ned, reaching 
out for a good grip on the fines. “I’m a-goin’ 
home!” and with a skilful hand, he turned the 
shakling buggy with a whirl. The fiery-eyed 
horse obeyed the practiced touch on his bit, 
but when he was turned he gave another 
snort and leaped away, with Ned urging at 
his back and the buggy clattering over the 
roadway at his frightened heels. 

A shout of laughter rang along the curb, 
and a voice called out, “He’s got goin’ 
straight at last!” 

Betsy had not time to rejoice over Mr. 
Watson’s longing for his home. The camel 




136 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


was bearing down the street, and the cheers 
and laughter rose as he came. Two of the 
tied horses bolted as he came, tearing away 
in the opposite direction without regard to 
their owners on the curb. Dogs barked, boys 
shouted. It was a moment of tumultuous 
excitement. 

“Hurrah for Jimmy Delaney!” screamed 
the school boys. 

“Three cheers for Jimmy and the Circus,” 
squeaked the girls from the grammar grades. 

“Look at the camel!” cried Bill the hostler. 
“Ain’t he got a sickenin’ smile?” 

“Where’d you git him?” queried a chorus. 
“Show us his tricks, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy waved them back with his lordly 
air. “I’ll stop him and show you how he 
minds the signals,” he told them loftily. “He 
ain’t no trick monkey. He’s a high-class 
dromedary from Arabia. You’ll have to keep 
back, though. He’s got teeth.” 

The boys surged backward at this threat¬ 
ening speech, and Jimmy brought his big 
dromedary to a halt in the midst of a wide 
space in front of the Worthington house. The 
camel sneered exceedingly as the harsh purring 



Amiee Takes a Ride 


137 


sound was given, but he obeyed the signal to 
kneel and his many joints doubled them¬ 
selves together in the usual way until he came 
to earth, a legless mound of rough, hairy hide, 
surmounted by a gaudy saddle with Jimmy 
on it, and topped off with his own bored, 
sarcastic head. 

“Gosh! He’s not a beauty, is he?” com¬ 
mented Mr. Higbee, coming out of the side 
door and edging closer. “Ain’t you afraid to 
take him about loose like this?” he asked. 

The proud Jimmy shook his head. “He’s 
all right when you know how to take him,” 
he replied. “I’ll show you how easy he is to 
steer.” 

And then he made the camel rise, and take a 
few steps, and kneel again. “He’s all right, 
you see,” he told them, and, inflated by their 
admiring eyes, made the camel kneel again 
and rise at the word of command. 

The Sahib’s little eyes were spots of red 
light, but he obeyed, grunting fearfully, and 
he stepped slowly out as Jimmy pressed his 
shoulder with the compelling toe. He was 
obedient, but he was angry, too. Angry 
camels keep their thoughts to themselves. 




138 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Jimmy brought him to a halt for the third 
time. “See how he minds,” he bragged. 
“ He’s a thoroughbred from Arabia. He ain’t 
any of them freighters with two humps. 
He’s-” 

Just then Spot appeared. He had seen the 
Sahib meekly obeying Jimmy’s orders, and 
he felt it was time to leave the shelter of the 
ruined stairway. He made straight for the 
sagging lip of the Sahib, and he barked his 
fiercest bark, dancing up and down in front 
of him in his usual bullying fashion. 

“ Yay-yah-yaA/” snapped Spot, and made a 
lunge for the motionless Sahib's tempting 
under-lip. 

The Sahib’s sneer never changed a muscle. 
Spot might have been a mile away for all he 
noticed. But his eyes twinkled. 

“He’s a high-class Egyptian,” finished 
Jimmy, giving the purring signal in sheer 
light-headedness. 

The Sahib grunted fearfully, but he col¬ 
lapsed into the dust obediently. Spot edged 
closer. He had no respect for this foolish 
creature with the queer hump on his back. 
He sniffed the saddle cloth. Then he raised 





Amiee Takes a Ride 


139 


his inquisitive nose to the sneering face and 
he growled a little to show what he thought 
of the camel. 

Instantly there was a scream. The Sahib’s 
head shot out. Spot rose in the air, gripped 
through the back by the iron teeth in the 
sneering mouth. When the Sahib flung the 
limp body from him, Spot rolled limply into 
the ditch and lay quite still. 

“He’s finished him, and serve him right,” 
said Selma with a nod. “I said he’d get his 
dues some day.” 

Betsy was trembling at the sight of the 
broken body in the ditch. “He was horrid,” 
she agreed, “but that camel is perfectly 
abominable, I think.” 

Amiee said nothing. She looked at the 
camel and Jimmy with absent eyes. She 
hardly seemed to see the lively scene before 
her. After someone had thrown a cloth over 
Spot’s body, and Jimmy was bringing the 
Sahib to his feet for the last time, she pulled 
Betsy by the sleeve. 

“Is it far to Alandale?” she asked, with 
her somber eyes alight. 

Betsy thought that she meant Jimmy was 



140 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


going to Alandale, and replied readily that it 
was fifteen miles, but that was nothing for a 
camel. “He’ll make it in no time,” she 
assured her. 

Amiee made no response and Betsy soon 
forgot her question in the tumult of farewells 
that rose as Jimmy turned the big camel and 
started off up the road he had come. It was 
not the road to Alandale. In fact, it led in 
quite the opposite direction. 

The event was over and the line along the 
curb dispersed. Mrs. Tubbs, lamenting 
loudly, had taken Spot’s body away to her 
back garden. The runaway horses were cap¬ 
tured and returned undamaged, and the 
school children went home to lessons and 
supper. 

Selma drove the two girls back to the Wee 
Corner and then turned Dolly towards the 
village again. “She’s an awful poke, but she’s 
pretty sensible, too,” she leaned out of the 
buggy to say. “There wasn’t another horse 
who’d have behaved like she did.” 

Betsy watched her drive away and then 
she followed Amiee into the house. She 
noticed that the customary visit to the gar- 




Amiee Takes a Ride 


141 


den bed was omitted, and she caught the 
whispered word that Amiee was repeating to 
herself as she hurried along. 

“Alandale!” thought Betsy in surprise. 
“Why in the world is she saying that over 
and over again? Is she trying to remember all 
the geography of this country, or is she going 
crazy again?” 

The next day brought the answer to her 
question. It was not at all the one she would 
have expected. 



CHAPTER X 


The Road to Alandale 

B ETSY dressed the next morning in very 
leisurely fashion. 

She was thinking of Helen’s note 
which had come the day before. Helen wrote 
from Washington, where Betsy’s letter had 
followed them. She told Betsy that Major 
Gordon was in Newport News, “ doing some¬ 
thing in the aviation service” for a few days, 
after which he would go to New York for a 
while. If Betsy had any inquiries to make she 
had best write to him at the New York address 
carefully written at the bottom of the sheet. 

“I’ll write tomorrow, and I’ll ask him not 
to tell a soul,” thought Betsy as she pulled 
on her left stocking. She felt rather impor¬ 
tant to be planning such official dispatches. 
“I’ll ask him if he hears of any French immi¬ 
grants named LaLanne to let me know. And 
I’ll enclose a stamped envelope to show that I 
don’t want to bother him any more than I can 
help.” 


( 142 ) 


The Road to Alandale 


143 


She pulled on her other stocking and but¬ 
toned her shoes seriously. Her whole mind 
was on the letter. She wanted to make it 
very clear and quite short. She halted on the 
fourth button of the second shoe. “Why,” 
she said, “ I don’t know either of their names. 
Amiee never told me either her father’s or her 
mother’s first name. I’ll have to ask her.” 

She was dressed in a jiffy after that, and 
was tapping lightly on Amiee’s door, which 
was standing just the tiniest bit ajar. Betsy 
could see the glint of the window as she 
tapped. She knocked twice, and then she 
pushed the door open. The bed was neatly 
made and Amiee’s school books were in a neat 
pile on the chair by the door. 

“She’s gotten ahead of me for once,” 
thought Betsy with a little laugh. “She must 
have been up pretty early to have aired and 
made her bed so soon. I’ll find her outside, 
I suppose.” 

She ran down to seek Amiee in the frosty 
garden, but though she flew to the side of the 
house and looked after that in the summer 
house and in the back garden, no sign of 
Amiee was to be found. 




144 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Where’s Amiee?” she asked of Lucy, who 
was stirring hot-cakes by the kitchen table. 
She had searched the lower rooms in vain. 

Lucy shook her head. “Haven’t seen her 
yet,” she replied. “She ain’t apt to snoop 
about this early, not to my knowledge. What 
did you take that roll for? I was a-savin’ it 
for your Ma’s breakfast, special. I don’t 
mind the bit of meat, nor the tomat, but I 
did want that roll.” 

Betsy faced her with surprised eyes. “I 
didn’t take any roll, and I don’t know what 
you’re talking about,” she protested. “What 
do you mean?” 

Lucy saw the truth written on her aston¬ 
ished face. “Well, mebbe it ain’t you,” she 
returned slowly as she dropped the baking 
powder into the batter. “It’s that Mac, 
mebbe. Though he ain’t in the habit of 
touchin’ things that way.” 

Betsy went all through the house again 
without finding Amiee. Mrs. Hale came into 
the dining-room just as Betsy was leaving it. 
“I’m going up to see if she’s come in without 
my hearing her,” she explained as she hurried 
past. 



The Road to Alandale 


145 


She was back in a minute with a startled 
face. She held a note in her hand. “It’s to 
you, Mother,” she said in an awed tone. “I 
found it on her dresser. I didn’t notice it 
before. Oh, I do hope she hasn’t drowned 
herself or—or anything!” 

Mrs. Hale smiled reassuringly, though her 
face, too, was rather white as she took the note 
from Betsy’s shaking fingers. She opened it 
quickly and her smile grew warmer. 

“It is only a line to say that she had gone 
for an early walk,” she said with evident 
relief. She laid the note on the cloth by 
Betsy’s place. 

Betsy read it as she dropped into her chair. 
“Dear Madame,” it ran, “I make my excuses 
for the early absence. I go to walk in the 
distance, and to return soon should my paths 
not be lost. Pardon the absence from table 
and the breakfast taken secretly—” Here 
Betsy looked up at Lucy, who was bringing in 
the hot cakes. 

“It was Amiee who took the roll and stuff,” 
she told her triumphantly. “ I didn’t think old 
Mac could have done it. She’s gone for a long 
walk and she won’t be here for breakfast.” 


10 




146 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Lucy showed unexpected concern. “She 
hadn’t ought to have done that,” she said 
gravely. “She ain’t well acquainted with 
these parts, and they’re confusin’ to a stranger. 
I used to get mixed up myself, and I wasn’t 
town-bred like she is, either.” 

“Oh, she’s all right,” Betsy told her con¬ 
fidently. “Amiee’s dreadfully cautious. 
She’ll hardly venture far. She’s afraid of 
bushes and things like that. I believe she’ll 
be back before we’ve finished breakfast.” 

But Amiee did not come. Breakfast ended 
and the bed-making period passed. Lesson 
hour arrived without Amiee. Lunch found 
her chair still vacant. It was almost three 
o’clock before Mrs. Hale began to be really 
anxious. Then she called Betsy, who was 
concocting her letter to Major Gordon in the 
solitude by her own dormer wdndow. 

“Run over to Worthington’s, Betsy-girl,” 
she said, when the abstracted composer 
appeared. “Perhaps Amiee is with Selma 
and has neglected to let us know. It’s 
strange, though, that she should be so forget¬ 
ful. She is usually so reliable. 

Betsy, coming out of her haze of composi- 



The Road to Alandale 


147 


tion, took alarm at her mother’s evident 
concern. Her quick mind flashed to instant 
action. “ Shan’t I look about the place 
again?” she asked as she poised on the step, 
pulling on her sweater with eager fingers. 
“She might be somewhere around. I used 
to go sit in the barn myself, you know, 
when-” 

“Lucy and I have been all over the place,” 
her mother told her. “She must be at 
Selma’s, or perhaps—is there any other place 
she might go?” 

Betsy thought. “She goes to the hospital a 
lot,” she admitted. “Miss Willie told me 
that today when I was in to see her for a 
minute on the way from the mail. I didn’t 
know she went there. I thought she was out 
walking, in the afternoons,” she explained, as 
an afterthought. 

Mrs. Hale made a gesture of surprise. “I 
thought you were quite in Amiee’s confidence 
by this time,” she said with a puzzled pucker 
of her forehead. “ I’m sure you usually make 
friends easily—when you like them.” 

Betsy’s conscience gave a little twist. “I 
like Amiee pretty well,” she returned truth- 




148 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


fully. “I’d like her a lot better if she’d like 
me. But I don’t know her, really. I don’t 
know what she thinks or likes, either. She’s 
quiet, and I’ve been afraid to say much, for 
fear she’d think I was heartless. French 
orphans are rather different from other people, 
I think.” 

Mrs. Hale could not help laughing down at 
the perplexed face. She stooped to drop a 
kiss on the anxious lips, and then she gave 
Betsy a little push. 

“Run along and bring your orphan home as 
soon as you can,” she admonished. We’ll 
settle about the matter of racial differences 
when Amiee is safe and sound again.” 

Betsy buttoned her sweater as she hurried 
off. Mac dashed out from the back garden 
as she passed, and although his nose was 
crusted with fresh earth, she did not pause to 
even pretend to lecture him about the parsley 
bed. He cantered at her heels as she sped 
over the long incline, up past the beech 
copse, past Mr. Simpson’s neat house, where 
Mrs. Sloan, the housekeeper, was hanging 
out a winter overcoat and horse blanket, past 
the Hall, around the corner and into the leaf- 



The Road to Alandale 


149 


strewn drive by Worthington’s large white 
house. 

“Selma is away in Highville, my dear. She 
had to have a tooth attended to,” Mrs. Worth¬ 
ington told her in mild surprise at the visit. 
“She went over last evening directly after 
school. I wonder you did not hear of it. 
The tooth was very painful indeed, and she 
had to go right off.” 

Betsy was on pins and needles to be gone, 
but she waited politely until Mrs. Worthing¬ 
ton had described Selma’s sensations and her 
father’s prompt action. “So he took her 
right off last evening, and she’s staying with 
her Auntie till it’s all over,” she ended. “ How 
is that little French Amiee of yours? I 
haven’t seen her to speak to yet. Bring her 
over when you come again.” 

Betsy was away at last. She felt very 
diplomatic that she had not revealed her real 
errand to Mrs. Worthington. She decided it 
would be best not to tell of Amiee’s absence 
if she could help it. 

She found Miss Willie in the sun-parlor at 
the top of the house. She spent only a minute 
with her, since her greeting told everything 
Betsy wanted to know. 



150 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“How do you do this fine afternoon, little 
Miss Betsy?” she asked in her agreeable 
voice. “Have you brought Miss Amiee with 
you? She promised to bring me a picture of 
the Louvre when she came again and I am 
awaiting her with pleasure.” 

Betsy murmured an excuse for both Amiee 
and herself. She had only a moment to stay, 
she told Miss Willie breathlessly, and with a 
flurried good-bye she left her and hastened to 
find Emma Clara. 

Mrs. Stanton was sitting at her front door 
as Betsy came up. She turned her pleasant 
face with a warm welcome shining on it. 
“Come and take a ride,” she invited, pointing 
to the gray car at the curb. “I’m going over 
to Highville on an errand and I’m running 
the car all by myself today. I’ll be back by 
four.” 

Betsy shook her head. She looked long¬ 
ingly at Emma Clara and the car. “I’d love 
to, but I can’t,” she replied earnestly. “I 
really can’t.” Then a happy thought struck 
her. “If you see Aimee on the way will you 
take her up with you? She’ll be pretty tired, 
I think. She’s gone for a walk and she isn’t 
used to it, you know.” 



The Road to Alandale 


151 


Emma Clara, intent on the electric starter, 
nodded'tamiably. ‘‘I’ll look out for her,” she 
said. “Sorry you can’t go, though. It’s a 
lovely day for a ride.” 

Betsy walked soberly homeward with Mac 
bounding gaily beside her. She was begin¬ 
ning to be very much alarmed, as pictures of 
Amiee in all sorts of distressing situations rose 
before her. “She might be fainting by the 
wayside,” she thought with dismay. “Or she 
may have fallen into a gravel pit, like the twins 
in ‘Two Sisters.’j Or she could have easily 
mistaken the way and gotten into that horrid 
Hungarian settlement beyond the mills at 
Norton. She’s been away long enough for 
anything to happen. I wish Phil were home. 
He’d find her in no time.” 

She found her mother waiting impatiently. 
The color was gone from her cheeks and her 
blue eyes were dark and troubled. She 
walked restlessly up and down the flag path 
as she listened to Betsy’s report. 

“ We’ll have to make one more effort before 
we notify anyone,” she said quickly. “I 
shall send Lucy over the high road towards 
Norton, while I take the Limekiln road. Since 



152 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Emma Clara is on the Highville road, it won’t 
be necessary to look there. We’ll start at 
once.” 

Lucy was at her elbow before she could 
call her, and it was quickly arranged that they 
should make such inquiries at the houses by 
the way as appeared proper. “We needn’t 
ask right out, I s’pose,” said Lucy, pinning 
on her hat with vigorous jabs. “We ain’t 
wantin’ to make out she’s run away.” 

Betsy gave a gasp. That idea had not 
entered her head. She thought a moment and 
then spoke emphatically. “She hasn’t run 
away,” she said very positively. “She told 
me yesterday that she hadn’t a place in the 
world to go, now that her people were all 
scattered by the war. She’s left her things, 
too. I saw her best hat in the closet the last 
time I was in her room, and she’d never leave 
that.” 

Mrs. Hale hesitated. “Perhaps we’d best 
look over the room again,” she suggested. “It 
may throw some light on this disappearance.” 

Amiee’s room, however, did not help them 
at all. They found her things in place and 
the only matter for surprise about them was 
their extreme scarcity. 



The Road to Alandale 


153 


“I thought she had much more clothing 
than this,” exclaimed Mrs. Hale, shutting the 
almost empty drawers as she rose from her 
search. “She had such a number of bundles. 
Two good-sized parcels and a valise. I 
should have seen to it that she was better 
equipped,” and she sighed as she closed the 
door behind them. “I have been too much 
absorbed in that work of mine, I’m afraid.” 

When they were in the garden again Betsy 
realized that she was to be left behind. “ But 
I can walk as far as anyone, and I know every 
spot for miles around,” she protested. “I 
ought to go, too. I’m not a bit tired and-” 

She stopped at the reproof in her mother’s 
face. Her feelings got the better of her again 
when the gate clicked behind them. “I’m 
going to start out, too, if you’re too long,” 
she called, and her mother’s answer brought 
relief to her restless desire to be in action. 

“If Emma Clara picks her up on the High- 
ville road, she’ll be here in hah an hour. If 
she comes, you must run up on the hill on the 
short cut and wave something white. I 
shall look for the signal when the church clock 
strikes five,” Mrs. Hale directed her. Lucy 




154 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


can see the hill from almost any part of the 
Norton road, too. Be sure you are on time, 
my dear.” 

Betsy watched them start on their separate 
ways with a sense of sharing responsibility. 
She went in for her faithful alarm clock, and 
she brought it down to the summer house. 
Somehow the silence indoors oppressed her 
and the lengthening shadows of the hazy sun 
kept better company with her thoughts. 

It was a long, long time before the hands 
of the clock reached the half hour, when she 
had decided that Emma Clara must surely 
appear. The misty hills were turning from 
blue to violet and the birds were circling on 
their homeward flight. It was quarter to 
five when the chug of the gray motor brought 
her to the gate. 

Emma Clara was alone. “I brought you 
and Amiee some sweeties,” she called, drop¬ 
ping a white parcel on the grass beside the 
palings, and then she was off before Betsy 
could make up her mind to detain her. 

Betsy picked up the white-wrapped box, and 
put it absently on the table in the summer 
house. “I guess it’s just as well I didn’t tell 



The Road to Alandale 


155 


her,” she thought. “ Mother or Lucy may 
have found Amiee by this time.” 

She watched the clock mechanically, 
although there was no need of the signal from 
the hill-top now. Amiee had not come home 
with Emma Clara. Suddenly Betsy sprang 
up. 

“ Alandale! ” she cried aloud. “ Why, that’s 
where she’s gone! I never thought of it till 
now.” 

She sank down again as she recalled the 
distance to Alandale. “Fifteen miles,” she 
remembered, with sudden pity that routed 
her curiosity. She did not even stop to won¬ 
der why Amiee had gone on such a quest. 
She caught up her sweater and, leaving the 
alarm clock on the step of the summer house, 
she ran out of the flag-path gate and across 
the winding road. 

“I’ll take the cross-way through the 
thicket,” she decided as she ran along. “I 
shan’t find her, of course, but when I get to 
the road, perhaps I’ll meet someone who has 
seen her.” 

Mac was bounding along ahead, but she 
did not notice. She was intent on getting to 



156 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


the open road. She did not even look in his 
direction when he began to bark. It was the 
brook that halted her. A stepping-stone was 
missing and she paused for a footing. 

And then right before her she saw Amiee! 

The French girl was half-sitting among the 
rocks, and Betsy could see that she v r as 
trembling violently. 

“Oh, Amiee, wait. I’m coming,” she cried 
and splashed through the water in a panic. 

Amiee toppled over before she could reach 
her, and lay white and motionless upon the 
ground. She had fainted quite away. 

Betsy was not so much frightened as she 
might have been before her experience with 
her mother’s fainting fits. She was on her 
knees beside the limp Amiee in a twinkling, 
and dashed water from the brook on her face 
and rubbed her hands in a very vigorous 
fashion. Amiee opened her eyes almost at 
once and sat up, blinking in a funny way. 

Betsy’s first words were not at all what she 
would have chosen. “Did you get to Alan- 
dale?” she asked eagerly. 

And Amiee answered as a matter of course. 
“Yes. I had a young lady automobile for the 




A Stepping-stone was Missing 
































\ 















The Road to Alandale 


157 


going, but only half-ride on the way back. 
She went to another road. But it was all of a 
uselessness. You must not tell.” 

Betsy, under the stress of the moment, 
promised faithfully. She had not time to 
think. “I won’t let on to a soul,” she vowed. 
And then she helped Amiee to her feet and 
they made their way to the Wee Corner. 

It was only a step and Amiee gathered 
strength as she neared the gate. She walked 
quite steadily. Betsy’s eye fell on the alarm 
clock as she reached the flag-path, and she 
dropped Amiee’s arm. 

“It’s only five minutes after,” she 
exclaimed, hastily. “And I always keep it 
fast. I’ll have time if I hurry. 

Snatching the white paper cover from the 
candy-box she rushed off without another 
word. 

“They’ll see the signal, after all,” she 
thought gleefully as she raced along. 

She reached the hilltop and began to wave 
her paper flag. 

“But what in the world did she go to 
Alandale for? I wish I hadn’t promised not 
to speak of it,” she said with a pucker 
regret. 



CHAPTER XI 


A Trying Interval 

B ETSY did not find what had led 
Amiee to such a long and lonely walk. 
“Where’s Amiee?” she asked as she 
came into the dining-room the next morning 
to find only her mother seated at the table. 
She wondered if the experience of yesterday 
was to be repeated and she asked her question 
with some eagerness. “Where’s Amiee, 
Mother?” 

“She hasn’t come down yet,” answered Mrs. 
Hale, busy with the spoons. “I think you’d 
best run up and call her. She must have over¬ 
slept after her long walk yesterday.” 

As Betsy started off, she added, “If she is 
asleep don’t wake her. It will do her good to 
rest. She can have some breakfast later.” 

Betsy skipped upstairs, feeling that Amiee 
was becoming a rather interesting person. 
Having breakfast wait for one was a mark of 
distinction at the Wee Corner, where life went 

( 158 ) 


A Trying Interval 


159 


on eagerly and yet methodically. ‘‘I’ll go 
ever so softly and see if she’s sleeping,” she 
thought, enjoying the tip-toe approach to the 
door on the upper landing. “I’ll not make a 
sound.” 

She did not make a sound, but it did not 
matter in the least how quietly she went, for 
Amiee’s door was slightly ajar now, and she 
could hear the heavy breathing that came 
from the bed, where Amiee lay. 

At the door Betsy paused, and her caution 
left her. “Oh, Amiee, are you ill?” she cried 
in distress at the sight. “Are you asleep, or 
are you ill?” 

Amiee lay half dressed on the rumpled bed, 
her dark hair tumbling down over her white 
face and her breath coming heavily. She was 
evidently not sleeping and yet she was uncon¬ 
scious of Betsy’s approach. Her half-closed 
eyes did not either close or open as Betsy 
spoke, and the heavy, harsh breathing did not 
change. 

“Oh, she must be ill—very, very ill,” 
thought Betsy in sudden panic. 

Amiee became in that instant an object of 
apprehension to her. She could not bring 



160 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


herself to the bedside, nor could she touch 
the limp hand that hung over the bed’s edge. 
Her voice shriveled in her throat. She had 
only a tiny thread of speech. 

“Amiee, Amiee, are you awake?” she asked 
foolishly. She felt she should try to rouse her 
and see how ill she really was before she went 
down for help. 

Amiee gave no sign, however, and poor 
Betsy turned a faltering step towards the 
door. She felt she simply could not approach 
that dark, mute figure, or touch the limp 
hands. 

“Amiee,” she said again from the threshold 
in a quavering voice. “Amiee!” 

Then through the open doorway of her own 
room she saw the red-white-and-blue glint of 
the ten-cent flag at the foot of her bed, and a 
confused memory of all the wounded and 
maimed in battle tended by heroic comforters 
flashed through her startled mind, and once 
again she answered the call of the little banner. 

Turning swiftly she went to the bed and, 
stooping over the limp form, she touched the 
forehead and hands. They were burning hot, 
and the heavy breathing was hoarse and 



A Trying Interval 


161 


labored as with fever. Undoubtedly Amiee 
was ill and must be attended to at once. She 
tucked a cover about the unconscious girl, and, 
opening a window to the sweet morning air, 
she sped down-stairs with her unhappy tidings. 

“ Amiee is ill, and she doesn’t wake up and 
she’s breathing dreadfully hard,” she told her 
startled mother. “ Shall I call Dr. Stanton 
right away? I think she is pretty sick. She 
looks so queer.” 

Mrs. Hale fluttered up from her seat at the 
pleasant breakfast table in great distress. 
She was not used to illness in others, though 
she could bear her own ailments with bright 
fortitude. She turned to Lucy, who was 
entering with the toast, and she spoke with a 
note of entreaty that was very appealing. 

“Will you come up and see Miss Amiee, 
Lucy? Betsy says she is ill and I know so 
little of illness. You can help me with her, I 
am sure.” 

Lucy set down the toast. Her wholesome 
face shone with sudden affection for the gifted, 
helpless little lady before her. 

“Sure, I’ll come,” she responded heartily. 
“I’ll tell you what ails her in two winks. 


n 



162 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


I’ve had enough sickness, lands knows, to 
size up anything from mumps to bronkittis,” 
and she followed Mrs. Hale’s slight figure out 
of the room with a reassuring alacrity. 

Betsy looked after her with a breath of 
relief. Whatever was amiss would be mended, 
if it were possible, by the strong, capable 
Lucy. While she was waiting for the tele¬ 
phone operator to give her the doctor’s num¬ 
ber she recalled that first day when Lucy had 
dropped Amiee’s proffered tip on the floor of 
the bedroom where she was now so eagerly 
bending her steps, and the memory brought a 
flush of gratitude to the reliable, forgiving 
Lucy. “ She’ll help Amiee, if anyone can,” 
she thought, and then she got her number and 
told her little story to Dr. Stanton, who 
promised to come at once. 

When she came into the bedroom opposite 
her own, Lucy had taken charge of things with 
an energy that was very comforting. Amiee 
still lay breathing heavily, but her bed was 
smoothed and her clothes had been taken off 
and her night-dress put on; her hair, instead of 
straying wildly over her face, was neatly 
braided in two dark braids. The curtains 



A Trying Interval 


163 


were drawn and the sunshine was pouring in 
at the windows. Lucy, at the bedside, 
motioned Betsy away vehemently. 

It was then that Betsy noticed that her 
mother was not in the room. 

“You go out and shut that door,” com¬ 
manded Lucy in firm, kind tones. “You 
and your ma has got to stay downstairs till 
after the doctor has been here. There ain’t 
any knowing what it is yet.” 

“Oh,” breathed Betsy, startled by the 
ominous suggestion. “Is she very ill? Will 
she—?” She could not bring herself to ask if 
Amiee would have to go to the hospital while 
she was lying there before her, even though 
she was unconscious of all sound and speech. 

Lucy threw her a meaning glance. “She’s 
sick enough—that I know,” she replied posi¬ 
tively. “She ain’t got very far in the disease, 
of course, but we aren’t going to take chances 
on your getting it, whatever it is. Go on down 
now and make your ma have her breakfast. 
That’s a dear, good girl.” 

Betsy was too much impressed by the 
sight of Lucy in command and issuing orders 
with such firm kindness that she asked not 






164 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


another question, but went in search of her 
mother, whom she found in her room searching 
for disinfectants and bandages in an out-of- 
the-way closet. To Betsy’s horrified question 
she laughed a little disturbed, half-ashamed 
laugh. 

“There mayn’t be a particle of need for 
them,” she explained, “but I thought I’d 
have them ready in case the doctor found 
they should be used. Lucy is so very vague 
and alarming.” 

Betsy put her arm about the slender waist. 
Lucy’s command was fresh in her mind. 
“Come down and have breakfast, while we 
wait for the doctor,” she said and together 
they went down to the cheerful dining-room 
where the delayed breakfast cooled on the 
table. 

“How different it looks,” thought Betsy, 
glancing about the familiar room. “It isn’t 
a bit like it looked half an hour ago. It’s all 
changed and strange.” 

She kept that sense of strangeness when the 
doctor, arriving in cheery mood, came down¬ 
stairs again with a graver face and pronounced 
the case a rather severe case of chicken-pox, 
aggravated by the exposure of the day before. 



A Trying Interval 


165 


“She can be taken over to the contagious 
ward at the hospital if you wish it,” he said 
to Mrs. Hale. “There is a vacancy today, 
and the ambulance is very comfortable. 
You will have to be quarantined, of course, but 
it would relieve you of the trouble and 
responsibility. The hospital owes you people 
more than that, and I can answer for it that 
she shall have the best treatment.” 

They were in the sitting-room, near the hall 
door, and Dr. Stanton spoke with reassuring 
heartiness. The words must have been clearly 
audible to the capable Lucy, listening on the 
top landing, for her voice came swift and 
decided, with a ring in it that was very con* 
vincing. 

“You don’t take this poor child out into 
any cool air while I’m able to stop you,” she 
called. “I’m going to take care of her, and 
you can make up your minds to that. She 
ain’t going to be much of a care, I’ll be bound; 
but care or not, she stays here and I take 
charge of her till she’s well.” 

Mrs. Hale looked at the doctor and the 
doctor looked at Mrs. Hale. Some question 
in his eyes must have been answered by her’s. 



166 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


for he called up to the waiting directress at 
the top landing and he smiled as he made 
his reply: 4 ‘It’s all right, if you fix it that way, 
Lucy,” he said. “I’ll stand by you, and 
we’ll all do our best to help.” In a lower 
tone he said to Mrs. Hale, 44 It is only a 
question of a week, I think. She may have 
complicated matters by her exertions yester¬ 
day, but it may turn out that she was mpre 
tired 'than exposed. She may mend quickly, 
and in that case, Lucy’s task will soon be 
over.” 

Mrs. Hale shook hands with him in a 
very grateful manner. 44 1 am so glad to 
have you decide the matter,” she said. “I 
should have felt I must send her to the 
hospital, but since you say she can have 
proper car'e here, and since Lucy is so positive 
in her orders, I am thankful that it may rest 
as it is. Betsy and I will be quite content 
below stairs, if we are certain that Amiee is 
being well cared for above.” 

44 You may be sure of that,” returned 
Dr. Stanton, drawing on his gloves. “She— 
Lucy, I mean—is a cracker-jack. I’ve never 
seen a nurse better fitted for her job. You’ll 




A Trying Interval 


167 


have to be quarantined, of course,” he added 
as an afterthought. 

Betsy felt a thrill at this novel prospect. 
It gave a dignity to Amiee’s illness that was 
rather distressing to her nimble mind. She 
saw the paper placard on the door, in her 
mind’s eye, and she recalled that the gate 
would be as securely shut to her wandering 
feet by that little square of paper as though a 
hundred guards were mounted over the portals 
of the Wee Corner. Amiee, ill and uncon¬ 
scious in the upper room, had suddenly shut 
the familiar avenues of life and brought a 
cloud of apprehension over the bright sun¬ 
shine of everyday doings. 

“I do hope she isn’t going to be very, very 
ill,” she said to her mother as they went back 
to the task of clearing the table and washing 
the dishes. “It seems so sad for her to be 
sick and alone and all that.” 

A great pity and tenderness for the orphaned 
girl rose up in her heart. As usual when she 
was away from Amiee, and more particularly 
now that Amiee was afflicted, she felt only 
compassion for the stranger in their home. 
She determined to love and cherish her 



168 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


forever after—if she were spared to them. 
She wondered and worried about Amiee’s state 
all day, and it was her anxious questioning of 
Emma Clara over the ’phone that brought her 
some peace of mind at last. 

She had called Emma Clara up twice to 
talk the matter over, and Emma Clara, hear¬ 
ing the real anxiety in her voice, had urged the 
doctor to a third visit, and it was on his 
coming downstairs after that third visit that 
Betsy got her happier news. 

“ Well, your young lady has given you quite 
a scare, but it’s going to be all right with her 
now,” he told them as he halted in the sitting- 
room on his way out. “Her fever is going 
down rapidly. The medicine is acting like a 
miracle, the patient is quite conscious, and 
Lucy is grinning like a regular old Cheshire 
cat. I’ll be in tomorrow, of course, but you 
can be quite content about Amiee now.” 

Betsy flung her arms about her mother in 
her great relief. “Oh, Mother dearest, how 
glad, glad I am!” she cried. “We shan’t 
mind being quarantined a bit, now that we 
know Amiee is getting better, shall we? 
And it’s so splendid in Lucy to take such 



A Trying Interval 


169 


good care of her when—” she stopped, con¬ 
fused, for she felt it was impossible to speak 
of Amiee’s apparent dislike of Lucy while the 
patient and nurse were in such close relation¬ 
ship. “Amiee will just love Lucy when she 
knows what she has done for her,” she ended, 
cheering herself with the thought. 

Mrs. Hale looked at her, but said almost 
nothing. She, too, may have had some 
memories of Amiee’s indifference to Lucy’s 
persistent kindness. All that she said was: 
“We’ll hope for all sorts of good things—when 
Amiee gets well,” and then she went out to 
shut up the stove for supper. 

Betsy followed more slowly. She was 
planning delightful scenes wherein the grate¬ 
ful Amiee showered praises on the faithful 
Lucy, while to Mrs. Hale and to Betsy herself 
she gave free and full confidences. She told 
them, in this interesting picture, what her 
mother and father looked like; where and how 
they had lived in France; what she had seen 
in London and New York; and, last of all, why 
she had gone to Alandale. 

“She’ll tell us why she went to Alandale,” 
she thought, and she grew more positive on 
this matter as the hours and days went on. 




170 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


When Lucy and the doctor pronounced the 
patient quite well enough to sit up and 
begin to enjoy life in a limited way, Betsy 
fairly ached for some news of Amiee’s attach¬ 
ment to her faithful nurse. She knew that 
must come first, before the happier relations 
with the rest of them. But not a word or sign 
of such attachment came. 

Day after day for that long week she 
waited for Amiee’s heart to melt to her new 
friends, but she waited in vain. Then she 
consoled herself with the reflection that it 
was foolish to expect to hear about Amiee’s 
change of heart. 

“I’ll wait till I see her for myself, and 
then I’ll see how grateful and loving she has 
grown to be,” she thought, touched by her 
own words almost to tears. 

On the day when Amiee, restored, dis¬ 
infected and in normal health, came down from 
the third floor with the smiling Lucy following 
her slow steps, Betsy had the greatest dis¬ 
appointment she had known. 

Amiee was politely grateful in speech, and 
she suffered Lucy to attend her wants with 
a better grace than she had ever shown before, 



A Trying Interval 


171 


but she was still the same quiet, rather stolid, 
uncommunicative Amiee that she had been 
ever since she came to the Wee Corner that 
eventful Sunday afternoon. 

“I don’t believe she has a bit of a heart,” 
declared Betsy hotly to herself as she flung her¬ 
self down beside the window in her own dear 
room and reached for the pincushion with 
an indignant hand. “She’s just the same as 
ever.” 

After she had stuck in half a row of shining 
pins and stuck them in very hard indeed, she 
began to feel better. She sat up and looked 
out at the dark sweep of the tall pines against 
the gold and violet of the sunset. 

“She seems the same as ever,” she amended 
hopefully, “but I think she must be sweeter 
in her heart towards us. It’s just*because she 
can’t show it all at once. I guess she’ll be 
different after a bit. Some day soon she’ll 
tell us all about her home and people and 
then she’ll tell us, too, why she went to 
Alandale.” 

She frowned a little as she recalled the 
devotion which Lucy had lavished on the 
impervious Amiee. “I’ll have to make it up 



172 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


to Lucy,” she thought. “It isn't quite fair 
to her to do so much and not have someone 
show they like her a lot better for it. I’ll 
have to make it up to her, so she won't notice 
that Amiee does not really love her.” 

Betsy's heart was so warm that it was hard 
for her to understand how anyone could fail 
to respond to generous treatment, and she 
could not see that the griefs and privations 
which the French girl had undergone, instead 
of softening her character, had hardened her 
natural reserve almost to harshness, and made 
any expression of confidence a painful effort 
to her. Betsy sighed as she thought of an 
incident of the day just ending. 

Amiee, sitting comfortably in the easy chair 
by the hearth, had seen Lucy bring in the 
loaded tea-tray—a special treat in *honor of 
the recovery—and had sat calmly in her 
chair while the tired Lucy looked about in 
vain for the table where she usually put the 
tray. Amiee’s school books, which she had 
got out so soon as she had ended her polite 
speeches to Mrs. Hale on coming downstairs, 
were strewn over the surface of the table by 
the hearth-rug, and it was Betsy who had 




A Trying Interval 


173 


sprung up from an absorbing book to help the 
burdened Lucy. 

“Scramble your books off, Amiee, while I 
straighten the cover,” she had urged gaily. 
“Lucy’s arms will drop, holding that great 
heavy tray!” 

Amiee had moved with deliberation, taking 
her time to arrange her books in her usual neat 
way, and when Betsy had the cover nicely 
on and the table was ready for the tray, she 
had opened one of the books and without a 
single pleasant word to the careful Lucy, she 
had gone on with her interrupted studies. 

“I’ll help you fix the things, Lucy,” Betsy 
had said with eagerness to atone for the 
neglect. “That toast looks perfectly delicious 
and the cake is too good to be gobbled down 
right away. You’ve made a jolly lot of 
chocolate, too. Doesn’t it look good, Amiee?” 

Amiee had turned a rather indifferent eye 
on the tempting tray. “Lucy has always 
the custom of making things appear appetiz¬ 
ing,” she had said, and Lucy had appeared 
quite content with the faint praise. 

“Poor deluded Lucy doesn’t know that 
Amiee hasn’t a scrap of time for her now any 



174 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


more than she ever had,” thought Betsy com¬ 
passionately. “She thinks it’s because Amiee 
is weak and tired, but it isn’t that at all. I’ll 
have to keep Lucy from guessing that Amiee 
will really never care much for any of us, 
because her whole heart is over there in 
France. I’ll have to manage it somehow.” 

The warm feeling that came to her as she 
thought of Lucy’s kindnesses to herself as well 
as to the stranger brought another good 
resolution. 

“I’ll be nicer than ever to poor Amiee, just 
because she can’t be pleasant and sociable 
like the rest of us,” she decided, feeling very 
generous and noble in her forgiving kindness. 
“I’ll try to remember that she is different 
from us because of the dreadful things that 
have happened to her, and I won’t be snippy 
and superior ever again when I think of her. 
For, sometimes in my very secret, secret 
thoughts, I have been very snippy and 
superior about her.” 

The last glow from the sunset was fading 
before she rose from her comforting corner 
by the wide window sill. Her smooth brown 
hair caught the faint pink light from beyond 



A Trying Interval 


175 


the pines, and her clear eyes shone with the 
last gleam of gold. Her look was very earnest 
and sweet as she blew a kiss to the little ten- 
cent flag, back in the growing shadows by the 
bed’s foot. 

‘‘I’ll try once again to make her happy, 
and I’ll try hard,” she said aloud. And she 
added as she turned toward the sound of 
voices below, “I’ll be nice as nice can be, and 
perhaps after all she’ll tell me why she went 
to Alandale.” 



CHAPTER Xn 


Amiee Tells Her News 

B ETSY watched Amiee in eager hope 
after that afternoon. 

“She hasn’t changed much in this 
whole long week,” she confessed to herself 
nearly a fortnight later. “She is terribly 
slow, I.think.” 

Amiee certainly had not shown any great 
warmth of manner, either to her nurse or those 
who were so hospitably inclined to her. She 
was polite and evidently tried to express the 
gratitude she knew she should feel, and 
which she no doubt did feel, but her manner 4 
was still constrained and remote, aiid she 
moved through the routine of her life at the 
Wee Corner with a sort of mechanical effort. 

She had told Mrs. Hale that she had gone 
to Alandale because she liked the name and 
wanted to see the place. It had been said 
to be like St. Cloud at home, she had heard. 
She must have gotten lost. She was too tired 

( 176 ) 


Amiee Tells Her News 


177 


and her head hurt too much then to know 
where she was. 

“It was the fever in my veins that mis¬ 
directed me,” she explained. “I could not 
see the path, I fear.” 

Mrs. Hale was satisfied with her explana¬ 
tion. It seemed quite reasonable enough to 
her. 

“We’ll have to make her feel that we really 
need her here,” she told Betsy very earnestly. 
It was plain to see that she half believed that 
Amiee had intended running away, but had 
changed her mind for some reason. 

Betsy responded eagerly. She did not 
share her mother’s fear, but she knew that 
Amiee needed something to make her happy. 
“I’ll get Selma to take her to the Junior Bas¬ 
ket Ball Game in Highville on Saturday—she’ll 
be rested enough by that time. Selma can 
take one guest. And I’ll ask Philip to teach 
her how to drive, the very next time Dr. 
Langham lets him have the horse. And I’ll 
think up other things,” she told Mrs. Hale. 
“There’ll be plenty to keep her cheerful.” 

She was quite confident, and, as long as 
Amiee was in bed, it seemed easy enough to 


12 




i78 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


plan pleasant activities for her. When she 
rose, however, and took her place at the 
lunch table the next day, Betsy’s faith in her 
own ability began to waver. “I’ll ask Emma 
Clara and Miss Willie, too,” she said, very 
wisely distrusting herself. “ They’ll know 
how to make her happy.” 

She did not tell either Emma Clara or her 
old friend Miss Willie of her own disquiet. 
She merely said that her mother wanted to 
get Amiee out of doors more and that walks 
to either the cozy house by the hospital or 
extra visits to the hospital itself would be 
very desirable. They both entered into 
plans for Amiee’s benefit. 

Miss Willie, on her first visit to her own 
home, brought over a huge folio of foreign 
views and made appointments with Amiee to 
show them to the patients in the reception 
room. That plan worked very well for two 
occasions, and then Amiee very modestly 
said she was not well versed in the English, 
that the free ward laughed at her speech, and 
would Ma’mselle excuse her from the lecture. 

Emma Clara fared better, though she did 
not progress very far. She offered to make 




Amiee Tells Her News 


179 


Amiee a lovely embroidered best dress, if 
Amiee would help with the transfers and the 
embroidery. Amiee dutifully came and sat 
stitching hour after hour, but her silence was 
not to be dispelled even by Emma Clara’s 
pleasant efforts. When the dress was done 
and wrapped in its tissue paper wrappings, 
Emma Clara felt that she was not much 
further on the way to friendship than before 
they had begun their task. 

“She’s a strange girl,” she told the anxious 
Betsy, summing up the matter. “She seems 
to be always thinking of something else, as 
though she had something on her mind. I 
suppose it’s because she can’t get used to us.” 

“Philip says she’s learned to drive already,” 
Betsy answered. “And Selma says she was 
asked to join that Junior Basket Ball Team 
in Highville because she played splendidly 
after they showed her how, after the match 
was over. They didn’t ask me when I went 
with Selma, you know. So it shows she 
isn’t always absent-minded, like she is with 
us. 

Mrs. Hale was busy with the plans for her 
new book, all the while she was correcting 



180 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


proof and having consultations for the novel 
which was to come out soon. She saw that 
Amiee was well clothed and taken care of. 
She sent them to Highville with Lucy to the 
moving pictures on a couple of Saturday 
afternoons. She took them to town w T ith 
her once, lunching at a pretty cafe, and buy¬ 
ing Amiee instead of Betsy the new collar. 
That was all she could do in those busy weeks 
in November, while the care of the French 
girl gradually gave way to the insistent mat¬ 
ters of business that meant so much to the 
welfare of the Wee Corner. 

“I think she’s quite reconciled to being 
here,” she said thoughtfully to Betsy one 
afternoon when they were coming in from a 
short walk. “Don’t you find that she is 
brighter than she used to be?” 

Betsy hesitated. “I don’t know,” she 
replied doubtfully. “She knows our ways 
better, of course, but I don’t know her any 
better. Perhaps she’ll be more at home when 
Christmas comes. If Philip hadn’t gone off 
to school, he could have helped a lot. He 
always knows just what to do.” 

Mrs. Hale was on the front step and her 



Amiee Tells Her News 


181 


mind was already busy with the fascinating 
sheets up-stairs on her desk. She smiled her 
pretty smile. “ He’ll be here for the holidays, 
you know,” she said absently. “Just a bit 
over three weeks, my dear,” and she went in, 
humming a song as she closed the door. 

Betsy watched Amiee make her tour of 
inspection to the frozen garden. She was so 
accustomed to it that she hardly noticed it. 
She was thinking of Philip and the Christmas 
holidays. 

“There will be plenty of good times then,” 
she said aloud as Amiee joined her. “We are 
going to have three parties, one at Emma 
Clara’s and one at—some other place,” she 
caught herself in time to save Miss Willie’s 
secret, “and one at the Shrubberies. Helen 
told me in that letter today that they were 
coming for two weeks and were going to have 
a big party for all the people they knew—a 
regular Christmas party, she says, with a 
Christmas tree for everyone and hide-and- 
seek and all that. There’s the Sunday- 
school festival, that’s fun. And we’re going 
to have a candy-pull, and a pop-corn roast, 
and a New Year’s gathering here in the Wee 



182 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Corner. You’ll have a perfectly lovely time, 
Amiee.” 

Amiee smiled rather wistfully. She was 
fingering something in her pocket that looked 
like a letter. Betsy could see the tip of it 
sticking out between Amiee’s thumb and 
finger. “Ah, if I am here,” she said in a low 
tone. “You may not keep me here for those 
good times.” 

Betsy looked at her in surprise. “Why, of 
course you’ll be here,” she cried. “There 
isn’t anything that’s happened to make you 
want to go away is there?” 

Amiee shook her head very hard. 
“Nothing to make me want to go,” she 
declared solemnly. “I was fearing that you 
might desire it. One does not know about 
these things. It is difficult to make up the 
mind about such things.” 

There was something in her manner and 
in the restless fingering of the blue paper in 
her pocket that impressed Betsy. “What do 
you mean?” she asked. 

Amiee looked at her, hesitated for an 
instant, and then closed her lips. “It is of 
nothing,” she answered evenly. 



Amiee Tells Her News 


183 


Betsy watched her disappear with a sense 
of having been near a disclosure of some sort. 
“I wish she’d told me what she meant,” she 
thought. 4 ‘She surely meant something. 
Perhaps she’ll tell me later.” 

Amiee did not speak of her presence at the 
Christmas festivities again, although Betsy 
tried to lure her confidence at various times. 
She evaded the inquiries with such a calm 
manner that Betsy came to the conclusion 
that her own imagination had been playing 
her tricks. “I’m always seeing stars when 
it’s raining, Phil says,” she told herself with a 
laugh. “What’s the use bothering?” 

So she forgot her words wdth Amiee and 
began her preparations for the coming holi¬ 
days with a fight heart. They had spent a 
quiet Thanksgiving, owing to their wish to 
shield Amiee from too sharp a contrast to her 
own desolated fife. Mrs. Hale was deter¬ 
mined that the Christmas season should make 
up to Betsy for the deprivation. Lucy entered 
into her plans with real interest, and began 
weeks before to gather stores for the season. 

“You’ll be glad you have a house of your 
own to keep Christmas in, and, mark my 



184 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


words,” she told the eager Betsy, “Folks in 
boarding houses don’t sense Christmas at all.” 

Those early weeks in December were filled 
to the brim. Betsy almost forgot her letter 
to Major Gordon in the host of pleasant 
duties that the advent of the winter brought. 
She had written to him at the New York 
address, and later Helen had told her that 
both Major and Mrs. Gordon were in Wash¬ 
ington again. She spoke of their family 
doings, but made no mention of her new step¬ 
father personally. Betsy, impatient at first, 
gradually came to the conclusion that he had 
forgotten all about the matter, and proceeded 
to follow his example. 

The snow came with a sudden flurry about 
the middle of the month and then the ice, and 
she had the double excitement of learning to 
skate and coast, and try to coax Amiee to 
share the sports which she and Selma loved. 
Emma Clara often joined them, in spite of 
being “Mrs. Doctor” and mistress of a roomy 
house, and she taught Betsy how to steer a 
big flexible flyer with great skill, beside show¬ 
ing her how to skate backwards the third 
time she was on the ice. 



Amiee Tells Her News 


185 


Amiee did not speak again of either her 
strange visit to Alandale or her reason for 
feeling that she might not be welcome at the 
holiday making at the Wee Corner. She 
seemed to be trying very hard to become as 
much one of them as she could. She wobbled 
about on the skates, she went coasting reso¬ 
lutely, she studied and sewed and made 
Christmas kits with the others. Since the snow 
had come she gave only an occasional glance at 
the smooth white covering of her garden bed. 

“She’s queer, though, with it all,” said 
Selma one afternoon when they were busy 
with their needles at the Friday Sewing Class. 
“She hasn’t spoken a word this whole hour. 
I wish she’d talk about her father or mother 
sometimes. It’s funny she never will speak 
of them.” 

Betsy was intent on a buttonhole, a very 
obstinate one, too. She hardly heard Selma, 
who spoke louder, repeating her remark. 
Betsy merely murmured her annoyance at 
the refractory buttonhole. She was used to 
Selma’s rambling speeches, but Amiee looked 
up with a flush mounting to her forehead. 
She had evidently heard very plainly. 



186 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Oh, bother, now she’ll be hurt and per¬ 
haps won’t look at me,” thought Selina. 

To her surprise Amiee brought her chair 
over to where they sat. She did not speak, 
but merely sat and sewed with an air of reso¬ 
lute attention. It made Selma very uncom¬ 
fortable. She was glad when the class was 
over. 

That evening when Betsy and Amiee were 
hurrying home through the snowy twilight 
Amiee spoke suddenly. 

“This Christmas which comes next week,” 
she began hastily, “is a season of good-will, 
is it not? It is to forgive and be kind? That 
is the meaning here at the Wee Corner?” 

Betsy, with her hands deep in her pockets 
and a happy little Christmas tune running 
through her head, nodded. “That’s it,” she 
replied gaily. “Everyone wants to be kind 
at Christmas time. Peace on earth, good¬ 
will to men, you know.” Then she gave a 
skip for sheer joy in the words. “Philip will 
be home tomorrow,” she said with a laugh. 
“Won’t it be good to see him again?” 

Amiee stood still on the icy pathway. “It 
is not well that I play the cheat at this good- 



Amiee Tells Her News 


187 


will time,” she said with trembling lips. 
“ Madame may send me away, but I must 
tell the truth.” 

Betsy stared with astonishment. Then 
she went close to the white-faced Amiee. 
“Tell me about it,” she urged kindly. She 
was very sorry for her, and she was conscious 
of a great curiosity, too. At the back of her 
mind she thought, “Now we shall know about 
the Alandale trip and the moonlight digging.” 
Those forgotten incidents came back sharply 
at that moment. 

Amiee hesitated, swallowed hard, and then 
shot out her bolt. 

“I had a news of my father a fortnight 
ago,” she said. “He is alive. He is much 
broken in body, though his memory has at 
last come back. For long he did not know 
who he was, but now he knows. He is in a 
hospital and will not be like other men, for 
he has but one hand and foot. Shall I have 
to leave at once?” 

Betsy stared harder. “Why should you 
go?” she asked mechanically. She could not 
understand. 

“Because I am not a two-sided orphan, an 



188 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


orphan without parents, as I was brought to 
you,” replied Amiee, with tight lips. “I 
feared to tell my news from the good Madame 
Koot because she warned me that Madame 
Hale had wished an orphan of undoubted 
bereavement. ” 

Betsy understood and her lips curved to a 
laugh. “Oh, how could you think such a 
foolish thing?” she cried, and then the sad 
side of it struck her and the quick tears of 
pity stood in her brown eyes. “ Oh, how could 
you think such a foolish thing?” she cried in 
quite another tone, and she seized Amiee’s 
hand with a warm clasp. 

“Come along and tell Mother,” she urged. 
“She’ll be dreadfully glad to hear all about it. 
Of course she won’t send you away. When 
did you hear about him? And where is he? 
It’s perfectly glorious news—just a real 
Christmas present!” 

Amiee’s fears gave way before her enthu¬ 
siasm and when Mrs. Hale showed her delight 
in the happy tidings and even wished that her 
father might share their holiday, if that had 
only been possible, she actually broke down 
in her relief and shed some large tears. 




Amiee Tells Her News 


189 


“It is a veritable season of good-will that 
comes to me here,” she said, gratefully. “I 
did not know that I should be so comfortable 
with a father yet alive.” She wiped her eyes 
and added with spirit. “ I should have gone 
to him if he had but the smallest place for me. 
I shall write to him, if the letter will but arrive.” 

Betsy was so excited over the news that 
she begged to run over to Selma with it, and 
she ran off at once, leaving Amiee explaining 
the manner Madame Root’s information had 
come to her. She was not deeply interested 
in the details. 

“Amiee’s father is alive,” she called, as she 
came into the hall. “Aimee’s father is in a 
French hospital. He isn’t dead at all.” 

Selma came out of the dining-room where 
she had been helping Susan to set the table. 
She was interested deeply in the news. “I 
guess that’s why she looked so queer when I 
spoke about fathers and mothers today,” she 
said with a satisfied nod. Selma liked to see 
things clearly. 

“I suppose so,” returned Betsy easily. “It 
was a secret, and it was on her mind. Now 
she can be happy as she pleases. She hasn’t 
anything to hide.” 



190 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


After she had talked it over again, she left 
Selma with her bundle of knives and forks 
still in her hand, and she went back through 
the pale light of the waning crescent. 

The lights from the Wee Corner were wink¬ 
ing a welcome as she came down past the 
beechwood copse. Betsy blew a kiss to them 
in sheer lightness of heart. 

“It will all be different now,” she said to 
herself. “She hasn’t anything to hide.” 

As she swung the gate she saw Amiee 
through the window, sitting quietly at the 
table with her books. Something in the down¬ 
ward looking features recalled a memory of 
that day in early November when Amiee had 
fainted by the birch in the thicket. 

“I wonder why she went to Alandale? 
And what she meant by digging her garden in 
the moonlight?” she thought. “I wish I 
could ask her about them, too.” 



CHAPTER XIII 


Mac and the Pabsley Bed 

THAT a perfectly lovely morning it 
is,” said Betsy. “It’s almost like 
* " summer,such a change! The snow 
is all melted on the road and around the house 
here. The coasting’s done for, and the 
skating, too, for a while, I guess. Oh, here’s 
a letter from Phil—a real big fat letter at 
last.” 

Mrs. Hale looked up from her own mail 
with an interested smile. “At last,” she 
echoed. “I’ll be glad to hear what he says. 
He has put us off with postals and two-line 
letters every week since he has been away. 
I hope he tells us all about himself, how he 
likes the school and the boys, and whether he 
is coming to us for the holidays.” 

“Well, if he doesn’t—” threatened Betsy, 
tearing the end of the envelope. “I’ve 
written him two letters about it and if he 

doesn’t answer this time-” 

<m 




192 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


She opened the sheet with its printed head¬ 
ing, and read eagerly. “Oh, he’s sick, and 
perhaps can’t come!” she exclaimed, looking 
at her mother with her eyes full of dis¬ 
appointed tears. “Oh, it won’t be half so 
nice without Phil.” 

“He can’t be so very ill, if he is allowed to 
write so long a letter,” Mrs. Hale told her. 
“Read on, my dear, and see what he really 
does say.” 

Betsy began again, and her face cleared at 
once. “Dear Bets:—I am laid up in the 
hospital here and as I have not a thing to do 
I thought I would write that letter about the 
Christmas holidays. It is very kind of Mrs. 
Hale to ask me and I will be glad to come on 
the twenty-fourth—” she read, and then had 
to stop to exult. “Dear old Phil, he’ll be 
here after all,” she cried with sparkling eyes. 
“What fun it will be!” 

Mrs. Hale again broke in on her: “Why 
is he in the hospital?” she asked anxiously. 
“Doesn’t he tell you what is the matter with 
him? He is usually so well that one feels 
alarmed.” 

“I have had a cold in my head and the 



r 

l 


Mac and the Parsley Bed 


193 


boobs here thought I was going down with the 
rest of the bunch that got sick. Some of the 
fellows were over at Newton for a game”— 
and then followed a long description of a 
football contest between Brown Prep and the 
Seniors—“and they caught cold or something 
coming home in the machines and we had a 
regular epidemic of scares. The Doc thought 
they were in for pneumonia and they kept 
those poor ginks in hospital for one good whole 
week before they found out it was only a cold. 
That is, the fellows said it was only a cold. 
The nurses would not peep a word about it. 
I guess they were ashamed of making such a 
mistake. 

“Anyway, I was clapped into jail here at 
the first snufHe. There isn’t a thing the 
matter with me. I am well as can be. It is 
something fierce to have to sit around, and 
they won’t let me study, either. That is why 
I am writing such a long letter. It kills time.” 

They laughed over the picture of his 
indignation, as Betsy read on. “There 
ought to be a law against keeping a fellow in 
hospital when he is not sick. I am going to 
see to things like that when I am on the job. 

13 



194 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


I have lost muscle like a sieve. I will have to 
slave to make up. Tell Lucy I would like 
to have some of her good oatmeal cakes just 
now. But I suppose they would not let me 
have them. They might not be good for a 
cold in the head!” At the end of the letter 
this sarcasm seemed to weigh on his mind, 
for he added, in a scribbled postscript: “They 
are a good sort. The nurses and old Doc 
have been fine to me.” 

Mrs. Hale laughed as she began her delayed 
breakfast. “I don’t believe they are very 
badly treated, after all,” she said. “Those 
football heroes must have deserved all that 
they got. They ought to be thankful they 
had good care, but it isn’t in the average boy 
to be thankful for any care unless he is laid 
up in bed, so ill he can’t stir.” 

Betsy was brimming over with happiness. 
The length of the letter delighted her and the 
description of the game, although it had been 
played between two teams she had never seen, 
was full of interest for her because Philip, 
her dear chum, was interested in it. She 
thrilled with pride at the suggestion of his 
intentions when he was in power. The 



Mac and the Parsley Bed 


195 


fr; 

memory of that summer day by the brook 
when he had told her of his secret ambition 
to become a surgeon came vividly back to her. 
She wished she could explain to her mother how 
much that little sentence in the letter meant. 

“It’s going to be perfectly lovely to have 
dear old Phil here for the holidays, isn’t it?” 
she said joyfully. “ Aimee will be quite like 
the rest of us all by that time, I believe, 
and we’ll have such good times here in the 
Wee Corner. Everything seems to be getting 
nicer and nicer all the time now.” 

Lucy with the toast interrupted the flow 
of her thoughts. A sudden memory of the 
before-breakfast run came to her and she 
asked: “Has Mac come back, Lucy? I 
couldn’t find him anywhere around when I 
was out in the garden.” 

Lucy stiffened and a stubborn expression 
came over her kind face. “I ain’t done any¬ 
thing with him,” she declared rather warmly. 
“You don’t like for me to shut him in the 
stable and so I don’t do it.” 

Betsy’s face clouded. “He hasn’t been 
at the parsley bed again?” she asked in great 
concern. “It was all uncovered, I saw—.” 



196 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Lucy looked more relentless than ever* 
“I hoped not, too,” she replied, shortly. “I 
hoped he might leave alone that one spot 
in the whole blessed place that was needed 
for real food. He could have dug himself 
black in the face in those wilty flower beds 
and harmed no one’s food, but he needs must 
go pick out that parsley bed, that I’ve covered 
with straw and leaves and kept warm and 
green, and he needs must choose that for his 
cast-off dirty bones that he never looks at 
again.” 

She stopped for breath and Betsy anxiously 
interposed: “But Lucy-” 

“Please don’t say ‘but Lucy’ to me,” 
returned Lucy obstinately. “I haven’t done 
him a mite of harm. I just switched him a 
bit and serve him right. I’m done with his 
nonsense and his old bones. I didn’t hurt him 
enough to make him howl and he’s gone off 
on some ja’nt of his own, skin-whole and 
happy. I’ll bet. He’ll be back before you’ve 
done, I dare say.” 

As she stalked out of the room with her 
head in the air, Mrs. Hale laid a soothing 
hand on Betsy’s arm. “Lucy has done 




Mac and the Parsley Bed 


197 


entirely right, Betsy-girl, and Mac hasn’t 
been harmed, you may be sure. We can trust 
Lucy for that, I think,” she said gently. 
“Mac needed to be disciplined for his tricks 
with that parsley bed, and a little switching 
may cure him of it. The snow kept him 
from digging but now he must understand 
that it is time for him to give up and behave 
himself. Don’t worry over it, my dear. He 
has only got what he needed and I am grate¬ 
ful to Lucy for doing it. He’ll be back after 
a while and I think he’ll be all the happier, as 
Lucy says, for the bit of discipline.” 

Betsy’s expression changed as her mother 
spoke, and by the time Mrs. Hale had ended 
her face was cleared and shining again. When 
her mother gave an opinion Betsy knew that 
it was good. She dismissed Mac from her 
mind and turned to the happier theme of the 
Christmas holidays with Philip and Miss 
Willie and all the other good friends about 
them. 

“Just to think that it hasn’t been a year 
since we came,” she wondered. “And we 
have more friends here—real friends—than 
we had before in all the places we went after 




198 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


father left us. It will be heavenly to have a 
tree in our own house, and to help trim the 
church, and go around on Christmas after¬ 
noon to see Selma’s presents and to have 
holiday tea with Emma Clara .’ 5 

Her mind was so filled with Philip’s visit 
and her happy expectations that she had to 
go up to Amiee’s room where Amiee was at 
work on her lessons, and tell her all about 
the letter, reading the account of the football 
game and laughing over the dismal picture 
of the imprisoned Philip. 

Amiee was more interested than she had 
shown herself—anything that pertained to 
Philip always roused her interest—and Betsy 
found, to her great satisfaction, that she had 
overstayed her time in Amiee’s room and was 
late with her bed-making and consequently 
with her lesson hour. She came down to her 
mother with her satisfaction in evidence. She 
could not help boasting a little. 

“I told Amiee about Phil’s long letter, and 
we had such a nice time together that I 
forgot to do my work,” she confessed with a 
triumphant air that did not escape her 
mother. 




Mac and the Parsley Bed 


199 


Mrs. Hale took no further notice of Betsy’s 
manner than to say pleasantly, “I am glad 
Amiee is feeling better this morning. I was 
afraid the coasting yesterday might have 
tired her too much.” 

“Oh, she’s quite rested, and she is really 
going to be happier, I think,” explained 
Betsy, who was determined that her mother 
should notice the improvement that she had 
found in the usually indifferent Amiee. 
I’m going up with her before lunch and we’re 
going to make Christmas things; at least, 
I’m going to show her how to make some— 
that is, if she wants to.” 

Mrs. Hale smiled a bit at the growing 
uncertainty of Betsy’s sentences, but she 
said nothing. She seemed to feel that all 
would be well. 

“She might make one of those pretty pin¬ 
cushions for Miss Willie,” she suggested. 
“Don’t forget that you have your own lessons 
to prepare, though.” 

“I’ll be through them in no time, they’re 
so easy today,” answered Betsy gaily, as 
she settled down to the desk. And really she 
took to her lessons with avidity, hoping to 




200 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


dispose of them rapidly and so gain more time 
with Amiee. “I’ll take up some pink silk 
and a little of that lace I got last week,” she 
thought as she began her French history. 
“She’ll be sure to like that. And those pin¬ 
cushions are just sweet!” 

It may have been that she got the sweet¬ 
ness of the pincushions mixed with the 
terrors of the French Revolution, or it may 
have been that the football game came 
between her and the early English verse that 
her mother had set her to put into modern 
English, but whatever it was, she made very 
poor progress with her lessons and was later 
than usual in finishing her papers. 

When she rushed to her room in a frantic 
search for the pink silk and lace that was to 
charm Amiee into entire friendliness she lost 
another quarter of an hour, because she for¬ 
got that she had left her scissors and thimble 
downstairs. When she finally had her 
belongings in shape and tip-toed into Amiee’s 
room it was nearly twelve o’clock. 

“I’m awfully late, but I got twisted up 
among the Sans-culottes and then I couldn’t 
for the life of me remember what a word in 



Mac and the Parsley Bed 


201 


the Canterbury Pilgrims meant in our every¬ 
day talk,” she said brightly although a bit 
breathlessly. “ I’ve brought something pretty, 
though, and I’ll show you how to make the 
cutest doll pin-cushion with pink skirts and 
lace tunic that you ever saw. It will make a 
lovely present for Miss Willie, if you’re going 
to give her one.” 

Amiee looked up at her. She seemed 
entirely changed, but there was no expression 
of interest such as there had been earlier in 
the morning. “I think I shall not give the 
gifts this year,” she told Betsy in her usual 
even tone. “I shall only present a trifle to 
Madame your mother, and she will not love a 
pink doll pin-cushion, I have certainty.” 

It was a severe repulse, and Betsy fairly 
gasped at the reverse of her buoyant hopes. 
She did not say anything, however, and as 
Amiee had closed her eyes as she began 
speaking, no one saw the light fade from 
Betsy’s vivid face and the expression of keen 
disappointment that took its place. She stood 
a minute just inside the door, trying to find 
something that would not betray her, but no 
words came and Amiee did not say any more. 
It was a very discouraging moment. 



202 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


After a little silence that seemed very long 
to poor Betsy, she found her voice. Amiee’s 
changed tone hurt her deeply. She had to 
struggle with her voice at first, but it soon 
grew warm under the impulse of sudden 
thought. 

“If you made something,—anything, for 
your father and sent it straight off, he’d get 
it for Christmas, wouldn’t he?” she asked. 
“He’d love it—from you!” 

Amiee turned swiftly and looked at her. 
“Oh, I had not thought of that,” she cried 
transformed at once. “I thought only of 
purchasing—and I had no right to spend. . . 
What shall I do?” 

Betsy had not the slightest idea, but she 
was not dismayed. The light in Amiee’s 
face inspired her with confidence. “I don’t 
know this very instant,” she replied quickly, 
“but we’ll find something . I’ll skip down 
and look through the magazines that Emma 
Clara brought over, and you’d better come 
down, too. We’ll talk it over with Mother.” 

Amiee responded quickly. “It will be of 
a great joy to do that,” she said. “I was 
feeling that the Christmas-time was not for 



Mac and the Parsley Bed 


203 


me, but now I shall be like the rest—I have 
someone pertaining to myself to make a gift 
for. I shall come down soon, for my lessons 
are almost done.” 

Betsy ran down eagerly, but though her 
mother was not in, she was not cast down. 

“I’ll run down to the brook before Amiee 
gets down,” she said to herself. “ Perhaps 
old Mac is back and we’ll have a race, after 
all.” 

She left her sewing neatly folded in a corner 
of the wide window-sill, and, with tarn and 
sweater, she hurried out of doors. The sun¬ 
shine was bright and warm and the snow had 
gone from the open levels. It was a day for 
happiness and Betsy’s spirits rose as she 
stepped out. 

Mac was nowhere to be found, although she 
ran to the barn and even to the parsley bed, 
whistling his peculiar call very loud and clear. 
“I’ll have to go without him,” she thought 
regretfully, but as she scampered off, even 
Mac’s absence faded in the sheer joy of 
living. The sparkling air brought the blood 
dancing to her cheeks and the crackle of dry 
leaves sent a pleasant pungent odor to her 
nostrils. 



204 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


At the brook she paused and, stooping, 
drank from the little hollow where the spring 
bubbled up among the rocks above the step¬ 
ping-stones. The water was like the air, 
clear and vivifying, and she straightened up 
with an exuberant toss of her brown head. 
She laughed out loud in very buoyancy of 
spirit. The brook, bubbling among its brown 
aged stones, laughed and bubbled, too, and 
Betsy loved it for its merry chuckle. “ You’re 
as good as a real person,” she said aloud, 
stooping again to catch a handful in her 
palm. “You’re as jolly as the Niekleman and 
a whole lot nicer.” 

She flung the shining drops out into the 
sunshine and smiled to see them glisten like 
diamonds as they fell. She had a sense of 
real companionship with the brook. In the 
sunny stillness it seemed a real, living pres¬ 
ence. 

She started, however, at the crackle of 
dried leaves. The brook seemed to slip back 
into being a mere brook again as she heard 
steps behind her. Before she could turn a 
familiar voice called her. 

“What in the world are you doing, Betsy 



Mac and the Parsley Bed 


205 


Hale, talking out loud to yourself in the 
woods like that?” Selma’s mild accents 
demanded of her. “Are you going feeble¬ 
minded, like old Mrs. Sanders?” she asked 
as she came up across the mossy uneven 
ground to where Betsy stood. “Talking out 
loud in the woods is very queer indeed, I 
think.” 

Betsy had been too much absorbed in her 
little episode to come back to realities at once, 
but by the time Selma’s second question was 
spoken she was quite her brisk active self 
again. She laughed at Selma’s grave reproof, 
and ran to fling her arms about her friend’s 
neck in an outbrust of unusual emotion. 
Selma had never seemed so dear and sweet as 
she did at that moment. 

“You dear old thing,” she said with a very 
hard squeeze. “I wasn’t going crazy, I was 
just talking to the brook—it’s such a re¬ 
lief in the winter time and frost to find 
it laughing and singing out here in the sun. 
But I’d rather talk to you any time. Come 
along and let’s cuddle down on the big 
stump and talk a while. I don’t have to go 
in right away. Do you?” 




206 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Selma had no intention of going home at 
once, she told Betsy with an air of pleasant 
mystery, and she settled hers eh beside Betsy 
with her feet tucked up comfortably and her 
hands cuddled in the sleeves of her pink 
sweater. It was very delightful indeed to feel 
the warm comradeship of her presence, added 
to her recent triumph over Amiee’s dark mood. 

“I went to the house for you,” she began, 
enjoyably, and then Betsy knew she had 
something interesting to tell. 

“Oh, has Miss Willie gotten any more 
pictures for the Red Cross—” she inter- 
tupted, quickly. “She told me she was 
going to get some from Mrs. Stone. I do 
hope they aren’t so very dreadful as those 
last poor wounded-soldier ones that Mr. 
Long got. They are so shuddery and so true.” 

Selma waited patiently for her to finish. 
She was seldom in a hurry with her news. 
Perhaps that was why Betsy enjoyed it so 
much. 

“It isn’t about Miss Willie at all,” she 
explained tranquilly. “It’s about her house, 
though.” 

“It hasn’t burnt down?” flashed Betsy, 




Mac and the Parsley Bed 


207 


and answered herself in a breath. “No, 
you wouldn’t be looking like that, if it had.” 

“No, it hasn’t burnt down,” replied Selma 
calmly. “It’s all right. But it might have 
been burnt down or—or—anything, if it 
hadn’t been for your Mac.” She went on 
now without heeding Betsy’s eager inter¬ 
ruptions. “You see, Mrs. O’Brien goes every 
morning to clean Miss Willie’s house, to tend 
fires, too, in case Miss Willie goes home 
(you know she says she’s going now, and 
Dr. Stanton says she shan’t go alone); and 
Mrs. O’Brien keeps everything ready, for no 
one knows who will have their way, Miss 
Willie or Dr. Stanton, and though it is lonely, 
it is her home-” 

“Yes, yes, I know all that,” Betsy deter¬ 
minedly broke in. “Get on with Mac and 
the house, do, please.” 

“Well, then, when Mrs. O’Brion went 
there this morning she says she was crying so 
she could hardly see,” Selma went on cheer¬ 
fully. “She was perfectly certain she locked 
the kitchen door, but of course she couldn’t 
have locked it. She remembers that while 
she was bringing in some coal from the shed 




208 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Mac came snooping in with her, but she 
thought she had sent him out. She was feel¬ 
ing so dreadfully, you see, that she hardly 
knew what she was doing. She must have 
left him in the kitchen without knowing it, 
and gone out without locking either the 
kitchen door or snapping the padlock on the 
shed. It must have been so, of course, as 
you will see.” 

She paused here for a moment, arranging 
her story, and Betsy kept herself well in hand. 
She knew when Selma really began to tell 
her story that an interruption meant going 
back to the very first and telling it all over 
again. 

“So Mac was shut in the house all the 
morning, and when the man came he must 
have been asleep under the stove, like he is 
so often, and didn’t hear him at first,” 
Selma said slowly. “When Mr. Handy James 
came along that way from his wood-lot—he’s 
the constable, you know.” She waited for 
Betsy’s eager nod before going on. “When 
Mr. Handy James came along from his wood- 
lot where he w as cutting wood, all he knew was 
that he heard a great barking all of a sudden 




Mac and the Parsley Bed 


209 


and the next thing he knew a man dashed out 
from Miss Willie’s back way and ran like 
lightning across the garden, and Mac was 
hanging onto the leg of his trousers!” 

Betsy thrilled but would not speak. She 
was too eager to hear the rest. 

“Yes, he was hanging onto the leg of the 
tramp’s trousers,” Selma told her, nodding 
seriously. “And Mr. Handy knew there 
was something wrong, so he just ran after the 
man. He’s a good runner because he used to 
be in the Fourth of July Sports, and so he 
caught up to them in a wink, and he got the 
tramp safe and sound. Being constable, you 
know, he could do that sort of thing. And 
he took him right straight off to Father, and, 
oh, it’s been very exciting! Father told us all 
about it just now and I simply rushed over 
to tell you.” 

She went on: “Mrs. O’Brien cried like 
anything when she found she’d left the house 
open. She’s afraid Miss Willie won’t have 
her work for her now. And it was so funny 
of Mr. Handy to bring Mac along to Father’s 
office—just as though he could be a real 
witness. It’s all right now, though. The 



210 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


tramp’s safe and sound and won’t be sneaking 
into peopk’s back doors for a while, I 
guess.” 

Betsy was so excited that she simply could 
not keep her feet tucked up on the stump. 
She jumped down and stood before Selma. 
“Where’s Mac now? ” she demanded. “ What 
did they do with him?” 

She was ready to fly to his rescue if need be. 
All memories of the parsley bed had vanished 
for her and she repeated her question. 4 4 Where 
is he?” 

“Oh, he’s up at your house, getting his 
breakfast,” smiled Selma. “I tried to coax 
him with me to find you—I knew I’d find you 
right away with him to lead the way—but 
Lucy made such a fuss over him that I couldn’t 
make him even look at me. She certainly 
does think a lot of that dog, doesn’t she? 


enob di for 
e%and a lot 
$&t hah of 


It seemed as if she couj 
him. She gave him thre# 
of biscuit. He couldiri 
the stuff.” 

Betsy’s mind Ja^e< -*5 
ture of Mac, with the bones in his mouth, 
repairing to the parsley bed, and a quick 



e possible pic- 




Mac and the Parsley Bed 


211 


wonder as to the outcome of Lucy’s forgiving 
generosity came to her forcibly. She took 
a step and motioned to Selma. “Let’s go 
now,” she said. “I promised to be there 
when Amiee comes down and it will be fun 
to tell her all about it.” 

Selma agreed, as she always agreed to 
Betsy’s suggestions. She untucked her feet 
and hopped down from the stump and linked 
her arm in Betsy’s. “I have to be back for 
dinner, too,” she said amiably, “but I guess 
I can stop a minute. Is Amiee as nice as 
she was yesterday? She was almost like one 
of us—only quieter, of course. She’ll never 
be like you, though,” she added with quick 
loyalty. “You’re always different.” 

Betsy’s intention to confide Amiee’s lapse 
faded before those generous words. There 
* no urin telling, now that Amiee was 
&U ’ “F.e s going to make 


\rjj 


Christmas gifts witli me now,” she replied, 
proud to be able to say it truthfully. “She’ll 
be waiting, so let j h^py.” 

Selma halted. “That reminds me that I’ve 
got to get that sweater done for Aunt Hattie 
for the three o’clock mail,” she said hastily. 
“Oh, bother, I can’t come, after all.” 



212 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Oh, come along, I’ll help with the sweater 
after lunch,” urged Betsy, eager for Selma 
to see for herself. “Amiee will like to hear 
you tell about Mac. You always tell every 
last scrap, you know. Not like the way I 
scurry through my tellings.” 

Selma simply could not resist this, and 
she scampered along, keeping up with Betsy’s 
dancing feet. “Miss Willie oughtn’t to go 
to that house by herself,” she repeated, as 
they hurried along. “Mother says that now 
it’s sheer madness, even if she is almost well.” 

“But she loves it so,” said sympathetic 
Betsy. “I know I’d fight tooth and nail to 
come home to the Wee Corner.” 

“That’s different,” declared Selma stub¬ 
bornly. “The Wee Corner is neat and pretty 
and you aren’t all alone.” 

“I’d want to come, even if I were,” retorted 
Betsy, unconvinced. “And I think it’s a 
sin to keep people away from the place they 
are hankering after. Remember how soon 
Si Myers got well when he came home? 
Miss Willie’s right, I think.” 

“And I think Dr. Stanton’s right,” replied 
Selma firmly “Miss Willie will have to 



Mac and the Parsley Bed 


213 


give in. . . . There’s Mac,” she ended so 
suddenly that Betsy gave a start. “What 
a big bone!” 

“Where?” asked Betsy, searching the re¬ 
gions of the parsley bed in vain. 

“There, goosey, by the shed door,” Selma 
told her. “Lucy’s allowed him to chew that 
big bone on the mat, too! She’s perfectly 
silly over him now.” 

Betsy ran to pat the heroic Mac’s rough 
head, and to exchange a word with the smiling 
Lucy, and then she ran after Selma to the 
sitting-room, where Amiee was waiting. 

“I don’t believe Mac will ever dig in that 
bed again,” she thought, happily. “And I’m 
sure Selma is wrong about Miss Willie. 
Selma is mistaken about people, for she said 
Amiee wouldn’t change, and she has,—even 
if she does slip back once in a while, she has 
changed.” 

She found Selma ending her recital of 
Mac’s exploit to a very attentive Amiee and 
her spirits rose still more at the sight. All 
was going well, indeed. 

Selma halted at the door for a final repeti¬ 
tion, after her habit. “Miss Willie’s bent 




214 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


on going home at once, but Emma Clara 
and Doctor say she shall not budge a step. 
They aren’t going to let her be there alone. 
It was bad enough before, but now that 
tramps are about, they just won’t hear to 
her staying alone any more. I don’t know 
what they’ll do about it.” 



CHAPTER XIV 


Major Gordon’s Letter 

^TT is quite a weight off my mind to see 
I that Amiee begins to behave more like 
^ other girls,” said Mrs. Hale a few days 
later. “I was beginning to feel that we had 
made a mistake in bringing her here.” 

Betsy assented rather doubtfully. “She is 
better than she used to be,” she admitted. 
“I suppose it was hard on her to come among 
strangers at first, and then to decide what to 
do about telling of her father being alive, feel¬ 
ing like she did. She talks a lot more, now 
that’s off her mind, and Miss Willie says she’s 
been over to see her—not just the hospital, 
but Miss Willie herself—twice a day since. 
Miss Willie likes her ever so much, you 
know.” 

Mrs. Hale nodded. “ She is really quite well 
now—Miss Willie, I mean. Dr. Stanton told 
me yesterday that he was only keeping her 
there because he didn’t want her to go back 

(215) 


216 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


to that lonely house of her’s. He thinks it 
unwholesome for her to be so much alone, 
particularly since the tramp episode.” 

“He says that because he’s just married,” 
she said wisely. “He thinks every one is 
lonely that isn’t married. Miss Willie likes 
her own house.” She thought of the fasci¬ 
nating mystery of that house with a throb of 
envy. No wonder Miss Willie wanted to go 
back, tramps or no tramps. 

Mrs. Hale sealed the last letter and handed 
it to Betsy. “He’s quite determined that she 
shall not live alone, at all events,” she said, 
turning to a pile of papers on her desk. “I 
don’t know what Miss Willie has to say about 
it, but I fancy it will be worth hearing, for she 
has a very decided mind of her own. Hurry 
along now, or you’ll miss the stage. The 
train was up long ago.” 

Betsy hurried off with the letters, thinking 
of Miss Willie Welch. She dropped the mail 
in the slit and went out on the store porch to 
wait till the incoming mail had been sorted. 
All the while her mind was busy with Miss 
Willie and Dr. Stanton’s words. 

“If she gets someone to live with her I 



Major Gordon’s Letter 217 


wonder how she’ll manage about the Outer 
and Inner Courts?” she thought. “I sup¬ 
pose she’d have to have the whole house open 
then. And the garden—what would she do 
to that? Would she cut and trim it like 
everybody’s else garden? Oh, dear, I hope 
not!” 

She was filled with the problem as she took 
the one letter from Mr. Higbee through the 
little arch on the post office counter, and she 
went out still absorbed, glancing mechani¬ 
cally at the letter as she closed the door 
behind her. 

“Why, it’s for me,” she said in surprise. 
The official-looking envelope was addressed 
in a strange hand, and she tore it open, won¬ 
dering greatly. She glanced at the signature. 

“It’s from Major Gordon,” she said aloud. 
And running her eye down the sheet she 
caught the name LaLanne repeated here and 
there. “It’s about Amiee’s mother,” she 
whispered joyously, and she ran down the 
steps in a flurry of delightful anticipation, 
casting her usual look back over her shoulder 
at the big flag as she went. 

“If I’ve found Amiee’s mother for her, 



218 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


I’ve done something” she thought, as she 
raced along. “It isn’t like going for a nurse, 
or that sort of thing. But it’s something.” 

She was in her own room in a jiffy, and 
although she was on fire to read her letter, 
she went over to the little flag by the foot of 
her bed and she pressed her lips to it, feeling 
very devoted and patriotic. “It’s only a 
ten-cent service,” she whispered. “But it 
brings happiness to the desolate war orphan.” 

She was quite touched by that, and she sat 
down by the window to her letter with a 
moisture dimming her eyes. She could 
hardly see the words. When she really saw 
them clearly, her face began to change, and 
as she read, a look of acute disappointment 
gathered. She ended the sheet and stared 
out at the tall pines. 

“He hasn’t found her at all,” she said, and 
she read it all over again. 

It was a very kind letter. Major Gordon 
had taken great pains to make his search for 
Madame LaLanne as thorough as time and 
influence could make it. No trace of anyone 
of that name had been found until late in 
November he had come upon the fact that 



Major Gordon’s Letter 


219 


some time in 1918 a person by the name of 
LaLanne, whether male or female was not 
known, had arrived at New York with some 
other persons and had promptly disappeared 
completely. It was probable, as the other 
two persons of the party had died since from 
exposure and shock, that the person named 
LaLanne was also deceased. The Major 
assured Betsy that he had made such search 
as was possible under existing conditions, 
without avail. He ended with the kindest 
expressions of regret, and the comforting 
persuasion that there had no doubt been a 
mistake in the name, and that no LaLanne 
had really come to America. He would make 
inquiries as to anyone of that name when he 
reached France, which would be in a very 
short time. 

Betsy was too much disappointed to care 
for this assurance. She felt that she had 
been a bit ahead of time in her exultation. 
The desolate war orphan was not an atom 
better off than before. She looked at the 
little flag with a flush rising to her cheeks. 
Then suddenly she flung back her head and 
laughed. Her grand patriotic airs seemed 
very funny to her. 



220 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“I won’t tell Amiee about it, though,” she 
thought, sobering a bit. “It would stir her 
all up for nothing.” 

She was rather glad that her promise kept 
her from confiding in her mother, since there 
really was nothing to tell. “Phil will be home 
tomorrow, and I’ll show the letter to him,” 
she told herself, and felt relieved to dispose of 
the matter. “It’s a pretty dismal letter for 
Christmas time, and I’m glad that I can’t 
talk about it. It would make everyone 
sorry and blue.” 

She tucked it away in her deepest drawer. 
“I’ve done what I could, anyway,” she said, 
and then went downstairs to help Amiee 
with her Christmas presents. 

"Amiee had at first refused to join in the 
pleasant Christmas custom of giving of gifts. 
Although the two girls had exactly the same 
small allowance from Mrs. Hale for their 
weekly needs, she had protested against even a 
post card. “It wouldn’t be fair,” was all 
that she would reply to Betsy’s eager per¬ 
suasions. Since Betsy had convinced her, she 
had turned about. She was anxious to make 
some small gifts with her own hands. Miss 



Major Gordon’s Letter 


221 


Willie, Emma Clara, Philip and, strangest of 
imagined persons, Jimmy Delaney were the 
subjects of much planning, and a number of 
small suitable articles had been evolved with 
Betsy’s help. 

Amiee was sewing diligently on a pretty 
tea-cozy patterned after Mrs. Hale’s birth¬ 
day present from Selma, except instead of a 
Dutch boy Amiee had chosen a fairy with 
pink skirts. “Miss Willie does like her tea 
very warm,” she said as Betsy joined her. 
“She will welcome this gift for its use.” 

“She’ll like it for your sake, too,” Betsy 
told her earnestly. Somehow she felt that 
she must make up to Amiee for not having 
found a mother for her. 

Amiee’s dark face brightened. “She is 
most kind, that Ma’mselle Miss,” she said 
with more warmth than usual. “I grow more 
clear-sighted for her kindness every day.” 

“Did you hear that Dr. Stanton won’t let 
her go home by herself?” asked Betsy. “Oh, 
dear, I suppose I shouldn’t have said that, 
but you won’t speak of it of course. Give 
me that last wristlet for Jimmy. I’ll put on a 
few rows while you finish the cozy. Have 



222 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


you seen Mrs. Delaney today? I haven’t 
been to the hospital since Monday-” 

Amiee’s exclamation interrupted her. “Ah, 
I have forgot the message,” Amiee said with 
an amused air. “That good Mrs. Delanee 
said I must of a certainty tell you that impor¬ 
tant message from Jimmee. He sends the 
word that we shall each, Selma and you and 
I, have a veritable Christmas gift from him 
on the morning of the Christmas. It is 
something to please us much, and he will 
bring it himself. 

Betsy listened with a broadening smile. 
Jimmy Delaney, since he had ceased being an 
anxiety to her, was always rather a joke. “I 
hope he doesn’t bring it on that long-legged 
camel,” she laughed. “There isn’t much 
peace and good-will about that heathen beast. 
We’ll have to tie Mac up good and tight.” 

Amiee smiled and then grew serious. “The 
three Wise Kings came on their camels to 
Bethlehem,” she said in a low tone. “And 
they brought very good gifts in their hands.” 

Betsy nodded and fell silent. She was 
thinking as she knitted Jimmy’s gray wristlet, 
of the gifts that had come to the little house- 





Major Gordon’s Letter 


223 


hold in the Wee Corner during that eventful 
year. She remembered the day in the chilly 
late winter when she and her mother had 
first seen the little house nestling among its 
cluster of trees. She thought of the box that 
had come after Mrs. Warner’s visit. The 
Garden Party at the Shrubberies and the 
Flower Basket at the Fair came back to her 
as her needles clicked. The Birthday break¬ 
fast with its harvest of love sparkled in its 
June sunshine, and the day when the first 
proof sheets of her mother’s novel arrived, 
were clear before her as she mused. 

“Everything that comes to us here in the 
Wee Corner has been good,” she said aloud. 
“And they keep getting better and better all 
the time.” 

Amiee’s wistful look was on her face again 
as she looked up from the pink skirt she was 
sewing. “It is well to be with those who 
like us,” she said absently. “It doubles 
happiness to share it. That kind Miss Willie 
needs someone to keep her well.” 

Betsy was surprised at the sudden twist 
back to Miss Willie, but she nodded. “She 
wants to go home dreadfully,” she replied, 



224 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


taking up a dropped stitch with care. “She 
says she’s going, too. She doesn’t know why 
Dr. Stanton is keeping her. I wonder how 
it will turn out?” 

Amiee said no more and the matter was 
dropped. Betsy finished the wristlet as 
Amiee completed the pink skirt, and then it 
was time to light the lamps and get ready 
for dinner. 

The snow had been melting all the after¬ 
noon and the patch of grass at the side of the 
house was quite bare. Betsy had noticed 
how green the turf looked in contrast to the 
snow when she had taken the knitting from 
its box on the wide window-sill. As she 
pulled down the shade before lighting the 
lamp on the center table she gave a little cry 
of surprise. 

“Someone’s made a snow-man right under 
the window,” she exclaimed with a laugh at 
the grotesque figure straddling its clumsy 
feet on Amiee’s little garden bed. “Oh, how 
funny he looks. Who in the world-” 

“I made him of the snow,” Amiee told her, 
coming up to look out at her work. “I 
brought it from the drifts by the box-bush. 
I he not a handsome gentleman?” 




Major Gordon’s Letter 


225 


Betsy laughed again at the bulging black 
eyes and bushy whiskers of the broad face that 
leered in at her. “Lucy gave you that old 
kitchen brush, and you’ve taken coal for 
eyes,” she said admiringly. “And you put it 
in the shade so it wouldn’t melt. He looks 
right in the window, too.” 

“Otherwise he could not be seen to advan¬ 
tage, since no one goes to that side of the 
grounds,” explained Amiee gravely. She 
seemed to be quite serious, and even anxious 
about her snow-man. 

“He’s perfectly fine,” Betsy told her gaily, 
and she wondered why Amiee did not appear 
to enjoy her creation more. 

Then they went up to make ready for din¬ 
ner and there was nothing more said of the 
snow-man just then. Mrs. Hale laughed over 
him when she saw his white face goggling in at 
the window in the lamplight, and Lucy was 
called in to see the funny figure. She seemed 
quite proud of her share in his whiskers. 

“He’ll last a month with this weather 
tonight,” she said, as she left the room. 
“Thermometer’s droppin’ like time. It’ll 
freeze him fast and tight.” 


15 



226 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Sure enough, the ice was glittering hard on 
the ponds and puddles in the next morning’s 
sun, and the snow-man stood like a rock 
guarding the side window of the sitting- 
room, much to Betsy’s delight. 

“Let’s keep him as long as he lasts,” she 
said. “It will be such fun to have him look¬ 
ing in at our Christmas tree, won’t it?” 

Amiee still regarded him with her serious 
gaze, although she smiled at the words. “I 
shall keep him as long as he will stay,” she 
promised soberly. “He is of much interest 
to me.” 

When Philip came in the afternoon, Betsy 
pulled him to the window before he had his 
coat off. She wanted him to see that Amiee 
was capable of a joke on her own account. 
Then she took him off for a run about the 
place in the crisp, sparkling air, leaving Amiee 
and Selma busy with the very last touches 
on the delayed gifts. 

When they were quite out of sight of the 
house she took out her letter from Major 
Gordon and handed it to him. She had told 
him of Amiee’s disclosure regarding her father 
before she brought out the letter. “I haven’t 



Major Gordon’s Letter 


227 


shown it to anyone,” she told him, watching 
his face as he read. She had a great opinion 
of his judgment, particularly since he had 
gone to Prep. 

He read it through very carefully, and 
handed it back. “That seems to settle it, 
doesn’t it?” he said seriously. “You’ve done 
all you could, but you can’t do any more. 
She’ll have to believe what they told her over 
there—her mother must have died just as 
they said. Poor kid, she isn’t afraid of being 
a two-sided orphan any more, is she? She 
seems quite set up over having news of her 
father in the hospital.” 

Betsy’s letter had made her skeptical. “He 
may be too feeble to ever come out of the 
hospital again, or he may lose his memory,” 
she said, thrusting the letter deep in her 
pocket. “I wouldn’t count too much on 
him, if I were Amiee.” 

Philip’s eyes were wandering toward the 
tree-tops of the village which peeped over the 
hill invitingly. “ Let’s run over and see Emma 
Clara and the hospital people,” he proposed. 
“Those girls don’t want to leave their gim- 
cracks for an hour. We’ll be back before 
they know it.” 




228 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy hesitated and then she turned toward 
the gate. “I’ve got such lots to tell you,” 
she said happily. “I wouldn’t write on pur¬ 
pose. Miss Willie is set on giving her party 
the night after Christmas and Dr. Stanton 
hasn’t told her that she may leave yet. And 
Jimmy Delaney is coming with presents for 
us girls on Christmas morning. What in the 
world do you suppose he’ll bring us?” 



CHAPTER XV 


Betsy Hears Two Pieces of News 

^ TT 'W ELEN looks perfectly fine and 
I I dandy,” Philip told them the 
A ^ next day at the lunch table. “I 
saw them on their way from the station. 
She’ll be over this afternoon to see you all. 
Mrs. Bond—Gordon, I mean—wanted me to 
go on with them for lunch, but I said you’d 
be expecting me and I’d come some other 
time.” 

Mrs. Hale smiled at him and Betsy nodded 
approval. They knew how Philip felt about 
taking too many favors from the generous 
Mrs. Gordon. He had set himself to earn 
the money she was spending on his education 
and he would not accept half of the invita¬ 
tions lavished on him by that kindly, hos¬ 
pitable lady. 

“Selma’s coming to dress the house, and 
Emma Clara, too,” Betsy said with a ring of 
happiness in her clear voice. “Oh, how 

( 229 ) 


230 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


lovely it is to have a house of your own, I 
never thought Christmas could be so differ¬ 
ent. It’s perfectly sweet in your own home!” 

She spoke with emphasis and then her 
face flushed and she cast a look at Amiee. 

“I mean all of us, of course,” she ended 
lamely. “Philip and Amiee and all of us.” 

Amiee, who had been spending part of the 
morning with Miss Willie, looked calmly up 
from her plate. “It is sweet to be happy 
with those who need us,” she said with unex¬ 
pected brightness. “Many most beautiful 
things at this Wee Corner, as you have said 
yesterday.” 

Betsy was too thankful to be surprised at 
the change in Amiee’s manner. She hastily 
added some words about the laurel and ever¬ 
green that they had brought from the woods 
that morning, and how beautiful the church 
looked in its holiday trim, and turned the 
subject. 

After lunch two good-sized boxes arrived 
by express. They came jingling up to the 
door in the station sleigh, and Philip helped 
Jake Gilpin bring them into the house. 

“They’re pretty heavy,” he said, as he set 



Betsy Hears Two Pieces of News 231 


his burden down beside the one Jake had 
deposited in the corner of the hall. “They’re 
for you and Selma, Betsy. You’ll have to 
sign for them.” 

“They’re from Jimmy,” cried Betsy, tak¬ 
ing the book. “What big boxes! I wonder 
what’s in them? I do hope,” she added with a 
giggle,” that he hasn’t sent any wild animals 
to us, just to show Selma that he has begun 
to get acquainted with them.” 

Selma had come in with the boxes and she 
gave a little squeal. “I’d never look at him 
again if he has,” she declared with vigor. 
“I’d never speak to him— 1 —” 

“Don’t worry,” broke in Philip. “Animals 
don’t travel about in air-tight boxes like these. 
You’re safe for a while yet.” 

“Wild animals are too costly for Jimmy to 
be sending them about for gifts to his friends,” 
added Mrs. Hale with a smile. “So you are 
doubly safe, Selma.” 

Betsy surveyed the boxes with a searching 
look. “If he only hadn’t put that big ‘Don’t 
open till Christmas’ card on each of them,” 
she sighed, “we might guess what Selma’s 
had in it if I could open mine.” 





232 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“But you can’t,” said Selma quickly. 
“You’ll have to wait till tomorrow at eleven. 
We aren’t to open them till Jimmy comes, 
you know.” 

She seemed relieved that the boxes were to 
be a mystery until then. 

“We’ll all have our presents from Jimmy at 
once,” Betsy explained to Philip. “He’s 
going to bring Amiee’s when he comes. Isn’t 
it fun, though? Jimmy’s such a jolly thing, 
I know he’s got something dreadfully funny to 
surprise us with. I can hardly wait till 
tomorrow to see what it is.” 

They all shared her feelings regarding the 
irrepressible James, and when Helen Bond 
joined them, with Emma Clara a little later, 
they all discussed the probable absurdity 
that Jimmy would spring upon them in the 
morning. The decorations of the rooms went 
gaily on while they chatted. Mrs. Hale 
laughed and chatted, too, but she directed 
their efforts to such good effect that when 
Miss Willie Welch came in at tea-time, she 
found the Wee Corner transformed into a 
veritable bower of evergreen and laurel, with 
the red holly berries winking and twinkling 
in the lamplight. 
















Lucy Had Just Brought in the Tray, and They 
Clustered About It 





Betsy Hears Two Pieces of News 233 


Miss Willie was greeted with a welcome 
befitting the season, and placed in the chair 
of honor beside the tea-table. So many ques¬ 
tions poured on her by eager young voices 
that she held up her hands in protest. 

“It is the first time I have walked far for 
many weeks, young ladies and gentleman,” 
she said. “Spare me, if only for the sake of 
the season. If you will have patience until I 
have refreshed myself, I will explain why I 
have come.” 

Lucy had just brought in the tray, and they 
clustered about it, each intent on serving Miss 
Willie as rapidly as possible. Selma gave 
her the plate and Helen shook out a gay 
paper napkin for her. Mrs. Hale, as much 
interested, though not at all eager, poured a 
cup of tea, while Betsy brought sandwiches 
and Philip held the sugar dish ready. Amiee 
was the only one who did not bustle about. 

Betsy noticed and held out the sandwich 
tray. “I’ll get the crackers for her,” she 
offered. 

Amiee shook her head. Her eyes were 
shining and she looked very much excited. 
She went close to Miss Willie’s chair and 



234 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


stood holding to the arm where Miss Willie’s 
elbow touched it. She did not seem to hear 
the babel of their happy voices. When Miss 
Willie spoke, she turned and looked at her 
with an adoring gaze. 

Miss Willie cleared her throat. 

“I suppose you young people find it hard 
to wait, so I will disclose my errand,” she 
said, in her clear, pleasant voice. She set the 
cup of steaming tea down on the table and 
Betsy saw that her hand was trembling. 

“My good friend Mrs. Hale already knows 
my mission,” she went on, “ and one of you will 
guess it by the fact of my coming.” Amiee 
smiled and sighed. “The rest of you will feel 
surprised, no doubt—” she paused as though 
undecided what to say, and then she ended 
rather abruptly: “I am going back to my own 
home tomorrow evening to stay, and Amiee is 
going with me. We shall give our party on 
Thursday evening, and I hope you will all 
come.” 

Betsy was absolutely speechless from 
surprise. 

It was not until Helen and Selma had 
broken the little silence that she found any 



Betsy Hears Two Pieces of News 235 


words to express herself with, and then she 
could only gasp and splutter, “But, Mother— 
Miss Willie—Amiee—” in such blank bewil¬ 
derment that even Amiee laughed. 

Mrs. Hale hastened to add her explanation. 
“Miss Willie and I talked it over many times 
within the last few days,” she said. “Amiee 
was told only this morning and as she agreed 
to the plan, Miss Willie decided to open her 
house on Christmas day—the best day in the 
whole year for a home-coming. It seems all 
very sudden, but it is a happy arrangement, 
since I have just received an offer from a 
publisher to write some new articles for him, 
and I shall have to leave the Wee Corner for a 
couple of months. 

“Oh,” cried Betsy, breaking in with flam¬ 
ing cheeks. “Oh, Mother, do you mean 
France? Shall we really go?” 

Mrs. Hale smiled with a little shake of her 
pretty head. “Not France, my dear,” she 
answered, laughing. “You’ll have to give 
up that old hope of yours. But to some 
other place that will be very interesting, I 
hope. Where it is must be a mystery for a 
while yet. I did not either accept or refuse 





236 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


it, when Miss Willie made her suggestion 
in regard to Amiee, whom she has come 
to be very fond of in the last weeks. It 
seemed a happy arrangement and when 
Amiee accepted it so gratefully, we were sure 
of it. Amiee will go with Miss Willie tomor¬ 
row, and begin her life there with a very 
happy holiday season. We will-” 

Once again Betsy broke in. “Oh, not 
leave the Wee Corner before our three par¬ 
ties are over?” she cried protestingly. “Oh, 
please, let’s stay till after New Year’s Day!” 

There was a general ripple of amusement 
at her sudden change of front. It was plain 
that other matters must wait for a while, 
as far as she was concerned. The candy-pull, 
the popcorn roast and the New Year’s Eve 
party were very much nearer her heart just 
now. 

Mrs. Hale assured her that they should 
not leave until the second week in January, 
which seemed a long way off, and then a new 
emotion choked the joy in Betsy’s face. She 
turned to Amiee with sober eyes. “I’m glad 
that you’re glad to go with dear Miss Willie, 
but I’d have been gladder if you didn’t look 




Betsy Hears Two Pieces of News 237 


quite so glad at leaving the Wee Corner. Of 
course you’ll be glad you’ve made her 
glad-” 

Philip laid a hand on her shoulder and spun 
her about to the tea-table. 4 'Turn off the 
gas, Betsy-girl. You’re badly twisted,” he 
commanded. "Mrs. Hale’s terribly hungry 
for those sandwiches you are saving for your 
own use. Here, give Miss Willie one. She’s 
been almost starved while you are singing 
that anthem of yours.” 

Betsy joined in the laugh and handed the 
sandwiches about. Her cheeks burned with 
excitement and she was very much agitated 
by the sudden changes that had come about 
in so short a time. She wished she could get 
aw r ay with Philip to talk it over. 

They formed a circle about the fire after 
the tea w 7 as poured and they discussed every¬ 
thing that had happened or would happen in 
the next w r eek, over and over again, until 
Emma Clara declared she w^as going to take 
Miss Willie back to the hospital straight away 
or she’d be such a nervous wreck she wouldn’t 
be able to come over the next morning to the 
Christmas breakfast as she had promised. 




238 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“Come, Miss Willie,” she said gaily, 
jumping up and collecting her wraps. “It’s 
my last chance to bully you and I’m going to 
make the most of it. I’ll tell Dr. Stanton on 
you if you don’t move at once.” 

Miss Willie dropped Amiee’s hand and 
turned to retort when she gave a start of sur¬ 
prise, recovered herself and laughed out loud. 
“That ridiculous figure at the window,” she 
explained, pointing to Amiee’s snow-man who 
peered in at them with his goggling black 
eyes and bushy whiskers through the frosty 
pane. “He gave me such a start.” 

There was more laughter at this, for they 
were all very merry and very much excited. 
Betsy thought Amiee’s smile was the bright¬ 
est she had ever worn. “She’s beginning to 
enjoy jokes and fun,” she thought happily, 
as she went out with the others to see Miss 
Willie off. 

Helen’s car was at the curb and she and 
Emma Clara wrapped Miss Willie in the * 
warmest rugs before they took their places. 
Amiee ran out for a last whispered word, and 
then the car went crunching over the snow, 
with its ruddy lights gleaming merrily and 
its horn honking out a jolly farewell. 



Betsy Hears Two Pieces of News 239 


“It’s going to be the best Christmas I ever 
had,” said Betsy, as they all went indoors 
together. “Things keep happening so won¬ 
derfully all the time.” 

She said it again to Amiee when they were 
getting ready for bed. It was quite late and 
she was very tired after the exciting day. 
Philip was already asleep up in the attic, 
and his snores were sounding through the 
house. She repeated her words drowsily, “I 
wonder what’s the next thing?” she yawned. 
“Nothing will ever surprise me again, though, 
after today.” 

Then she kissed Amiee good night and 
tumbled into bed. 

“The Christmas tree is lovely,” she thought 
drowsily. “I wonder what’s in Jimmy’s 
boxes. How strange it is that Amiee is going 
to leave us. France came to us, as Mother 
said, but it hasn’t stayed so very long. If 
I only knew where we are going!” The 
thought of leaving the Wee Corner roused 
her. “But we’re to be back in the spring, 
and Lucy and Mac are going to be here all 
the time, keeping it ready for us,” she assured 
herself. 



240 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Then she fell asleep and dreamed of 
creaking boards and creeping footsteps just 
as she had heard them on the moonlight night 
when Amiee first came to the Wee Corner. 



CHAPTER XVI 


Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 

B ETSY woke to Christmas morning and 
a flood of sunshine streaming through 
the frosty pane. She sat up remember¬ 
ing everything at once. 

“It’s Christmas,” she breathed happily. 
“It’s really Christmas Day at last!” 

There was a sound of creaking boards over¬ 
head, and her dream came back to her. “It 
was dear old Phil,” she thought affection¬ 
ately. “How jolly it is to have him here 
with us!” 

She sped with her dressing and was down 
before any of them. 

“Oh, how sweet it all looks!” she said 
ardently, as she glanced about the cheerful 
rooms with the Christmas tree shining in the 
sitting-room corner and garlands of ever¬ 
green and laurel, with bunches of gay holly 
wherever the eye rested. “It’s a real, real 
Christmas! ” 


16 


( 241 ) 


242 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


She gave a little start of surprise as she 
looked toward the side window for the jolly 
snow-man. “ Why, he’s gone,” she exclaimed. 
“The snow-man’s gone.” 

He had not melted, though. The icicles 
on the pane told her that. She peeped 
through the glass and saw him lying in an 
ignominious heap against the wall. His coal- 
black eyes lay near the brush that had been 
his whiskers and his coat and hat swung from 
a nearby branch. 

“Someone’s tumbled him down,” she said 
aloud. “What-” 

“I took him down myself,” said Amiee’s 
quiet voice in her ear. She had come in 
unseen. “I did not wish him any more.” 

Betsy felt that she understood. The snow¬ 
man had startled Miss Willie, and Amiee, 
in the excess of her devotion, had made away 
with him. Such fidelity touched her. “You 
did quite right, Amiee dear,” she said fer¬ 
vently. She found she could be much more 
affectionate with Amiee now that they were 
to part so soon. She squeezed her hand and 
would have said more had not Philip come 
down at that moment with his hands full of 







Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 243 


be-ribboned parcels, and the snow-man was 
forgotten in the sight of the Christmas gifts. 

Mrs. Hale was with them in another 
moment, and after the greetings were over, 
they all went out to the kitchen to give Lucy 
her presents before Miss Willie should appear. 
There was much laughter and merriment over 
the expression of sheepish delight on Lucy’s 
face as she opened parcel after parcel. Betsy 
looked about the cozy old kitchen with a 
happy sigh. The clock on the shelf was tick¬ 
ing away as bravely as ever, and its old bur¬ 
den sounded clearly in Betsy’s ears: “It’s 
fun, it’s fun, it’s fun to keep house.” She 
nodded at it, while the others were chatting 
with Lucy. “It is fun to keep house, and 
we’re coming back as soon as we can,” she 
said aloud. But no one noticed the little 
speech. 

They trooped back to the sitting-room then, 
and waited for the first sight of Miss Willie 
coming down over the long slope by the 
beech grove. “She’s half an hour late. I 
hope she has not deranged herself by the 
slippery ice,” said Amiee, with an anxious 
look. “Perhaps I had best go-” 




244 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Miss Willie’s voice sounding in the dining¬ 
room cut her short. She had come in by the 
short cut, and, far from being damaged by the 
weather, was glowing and smiling in true 
Christmas fashion. 

“X just had to stop over at my house to see 
that things were going as they should,” she 
explained while her wraps were being removed 
by eager, welcoming hands. “ It is remarkable 
how energetic this crisp morning air makes 
one feel. I could have walked on for an 
hour, had my engagements permitted.” 

They were soon at the table and Lucy was 
serving the holiday breakfast amid a merry 
babel of happy voices and the scents of spicy 
evergreen and the cheery sound of the roar¬ 
ing fire that was crackling in the big stove. 
Betsy sat next Miss Willie and so had a chance 
for her question. 

“What are you going to do about the 
Inner Court?” she queried in a low tone. 
“Will Amiee share it, or shall you live in the 
Outer Court all the time now?” 

Miss Willie looked at her with a whimsical 
smile. “That is still undecided with me, my 
dear,” she said. “I have not had the courage 




Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 245 


to either share my sanctuary or give it up— 
even for Amiee. It may be that she will be 
with me but a short while. This father may 
claim her if he recovers soon. Who knows 
what may take her from me? No, I have 
not yet decided.” 

“But you’re going there this afternoon,” 
exclaimed Betsy in dismay. “You will have 
to decide then, won’t you?” She could not 
understand such easy-going methods, though 
she felt that Miss Willie must know best. 

“ I have had Mrs. Jones at the house, keep¬ 
ing the fires up and taking care of it as usual— 
that is, the Outer Court, of course,” she 
replied amiably. “This morning I slipped 
over there quite early and arranged my own 
apartments for immediate use. There is a 
fire in both rooms, and—and I alleviated the 
plainness of the other side of the house by the 
removal of some superfluous draperies and 
easy chairs from my rooms. There was 
quite too much in them, you may recall.” 

“What are you two whispering about?” 
asked Philip, breaking in. “We’re going to 
give our presents as soon as you’re all through. 
It’s long after ten and we want to be done 
with it before Jimmy shjows up.” 





246 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


That ended the breakfast at once. Helen 
Bond came in with her arms full of gay pack¬ 
ages as they went into the sitting-room. She 
halted in the doorway with a bright look of 
approval. “What a lovely tree, and how 
jolly you all seem,” she said gaily. “I’ve 
come over to see the camel arrive. Have 
you tied up Mac yet?” 

“We’ll be on the lookout when the camel 
heaves in sight,” Philip told her. “If old 
Mac shows up, we’ll nab him before he gets 
busy with the Sahib.” 

A sled with milk cans in it went by, and 
they made very witty comments on it. A 
farm wagon on runners with a merry cargo 
of red-faced children jingled noisily past. It 
was one minute of eleven. 

“He’ll be late if he isn’t sharp,” said Philip. 
“Perhaps he’s stopping to get his camel’s 
hoof roughed.” 

Another sleigh was speeding down the long 
incline past the beech grove as they stared 
into the snowy distance. The two people in 
it were so covered with furs that they were 
hardly to be seen. No one looked at them, 
however, for the town clock was striking 



Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 247 


eleven in its deep, booming tones, and Betsy 
was saying in a disappointed tonf, “He 
hasn’t come on time, after all,” while the eyes 
of all the little party were still intent on the 
distant snowy high road. 

Rap! Rap! Rap! 

Someone was knocking on the front door. 

There was a flurry among the little group. 
It melted from the window and flew to the 
hallway. Philip had the lock undone before 
Mrs. Hale could speak. She had glanced 
from the front window and seen the sleigh at 
the gate, but no one listened to her. Every¬ 
one was speaking at once. 

“Jimmy Delaney! Where’s your camel?” 
cried Betsy as the door flew open and she saw 
who stood upon the threshold. 

“WTiy, Jimmy!” was all that Selma could 
say, while Philip and Amiee merely stared 
and Mrs. Hale held out a welcoming hand. 
Miss Willie was smiling vaguely at the breath¬ 
less Jimmy. She was the only one who did 
not seem surprised or disappointed. 

Jimmy shook the ice from his fur collar. 
He grinned about on each of them and gulped 
a couple of times. “Say—” he began, and 




248 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


broke off, as though he had something in his 
throat. 

An eager chorus encouraged him. He 
tried again. 

“I got your Christmas present in the cut¬ 
ter,” he blurted out awkwardly, motioning 
Amiee’s attention with a jerk of his head. 
“It wasn’t that party at Alandale after all.” 

There was not a trace of a joke about him. 
They all stared at him in sudden silence. 
Amiee put her hand to her lips. Her face 
was white and her eyes were wide and fright¬ 
ened. She did not seem to understand his 
words until he spoke again. 

“She’s out there, I tell you,” he insisted 
harshly. “Ain’t you glad to see her?” 

Amiee was out of doors before he could 
finish the sentence. 

Betsy slipped under Philip’s arm and fol¬ 
lowed, unconscious of her own actions. She 
saw Amiee rush toward the muffled figure in 
the sleigh. She heard a cry of rapturous 
recognition and then a babel of tumbled, 
broken words in rapid French, as the two fell 
into each other’s arms and began to embrace 
and weep and rejoice. 



Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 249 


“It’s— it’s her mother,” said Betsy very 
quietly to the empty air. She had caught the 
cry, “ Ma merer ’ as Amiee flung herself into 
the sleigh. “It’s her mother! Oh, it’s her 
mother!” and then she, too, began to cry for 
sheer sympathy in their joy. 

She ran to her own pretty mother and flung 
her arms about her. She forgot to be shy or 
reserved in this great moment. “ Oh, Mother 
dearest,” she cried with a sob, “Amiee’s got 
the best present of them all! She’s got her 
mother back again.” 

Of course they all knew that almost as soon 
as she did. They had seen the meeting and 
though the words did not reach them, they 
had the explanation from the sober Jimmy. 
He had found Amiee’s mother in an out-of- 
the-way town where he was left with some of 
the animals, when they were moving them to 
their winter quarters. She had been ill and 
weak and, as the friend with whom she had 
come to America had died while she was still 
very ill in the public hospital, she had drifted 
to the small town with another French woman, 
who had soon married and left her to shift for 
herself. Jimmy had seen her in a baker’s 



250 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


shop where he was buying cakes, and her 
broken English had attracted his attention. 

“Gee, it was fierce, to hear her tryin’ to 
speak United States to that dumb baker 
woman,” he said seriously. “That was how 
I got to know her. She thought Amiee and 
Mr. LaLanne were both dead and so she 
didn’t care where she lived. She wasn’t 
called LaLanne, either. They called her 
Mrs. Lallon in the town there, but mighty 
few folks knew her at all.” 

Mrs. Hale listened to Jimmy’s eager recital 
as long as she saw that Amiee and the fur- 
clad figure were wrapped in that long, eager 
embrace, but as soon as Amiee stood up again 
and began to talk, gesturing toward the house, 
she stepped out toward the sleigh with her 
hands extended and her face shining. Betsy 
was very proud of her as she watched her go 
down the snowy walk. 

After that they all went indoors, while 
Amiee and her mother and Mrs. Hale came 
slowly up the path and into the hallway, 
talking very excitedly together. It was like a 
play, Selma whispered to Betsy, only it made 
you feel so queer. The two girls held hands 



Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 251 


tightly as the three came into the room. Miss 
Willie was still smiling, though her eyes were 
bright and keen. 

“This is Madame LaLanne, Amiee’s 
mother, whom Jimmy has brought to spend 
Christmas with us,” said Mrs. Hale, ushering 
her into the room. 

Betsy saw a short, dark-skinned woman 
with large pathetic eyes and thin cheeks. 
She had the same dark hair as Amiee, but she 
was more slender and attractive, even in her 
weakness. Betsy thought Amiee must take 
after the father in the trenches. She liked 
Madame LaLanne at once. 

Madame LaLanne bowed gracefully as 
each of the little company was presented. 
In spite of her evident fatigue—she had come 
many miles in Jimmy’s swift sleigh—and in 
spite of the tumult of emotions that were 
agitating her, she made her entrance into the 
Wee Corner with gracious dignity. Betsy 
understood Amiee’s adoring look. “She’s 
perfectly sweet,” she whispered to Helen. 

Helen nodded and whispered back, “But is 
she going to take Amiee with her? Jimmy 
said she was awfully poor, didn’t he?” 




252 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


Betsy puzzled over this problem while 
they settled themselves about the cozy hearth, 
and when Jimmy came in from tying and 
blanketing his horses, she edged over to him. 
“Is Madame LaLanne going to take Amiee 
with her?” she asked. 

His freckles fairly popped with surprise. 
“Halleluyah!” he cried in dismay. “Aren’t 
you goin’ to keep her here? I brought her 
right here, because I thought you were so 
daffy over war orphans and helpin’ French 
people and all that, I sent her togs along 
before.” 

Betsy stared in turn. “Well, they didn’t 
come,” she flashed back. “The only things 
that came were those two boxes for Selma and 
me.” 

Jimmy grinned sheepishly. “Those are 
them,” he confessed. “I didn’t know how 
to get her little traps here without lettin’ the 
cat out of the bag. So I sent ’em to you and 
Selma. I knew it ’ud be all right.” 

Betsy’s blank look was so marked that it 
drew the attention of Selma and Philip. In 
the explanation that followed Mrs. Hale bent 
near to listen, and Miss Willie, too, lent an 



Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 253 


open ear. Only Madame LaLanne and Amiee 
and the polite Helen did not share the dis¬ 
cussion, which was very brief. 

Miss Willie cut it short with a little exclama¬ 
tion. “I’ve decided about my house,” she 
said with a nod to Betsy. “I knew it would 
come straight in good time.” 

And then she turned around to Madame 
LaLanne and with a very fine air she made a 
little speech. She invited Madame LaLanne 
to share half of her house with her—and of 
course Amiee was to be there, too—and she 
insisted that she should accept this shelter as 
long as she was in America. “Until a better 
time, my dear Madame,” she said with a 
little bow, “or until your husband comes to 
claim you and his daughter.” 

At that all the explanations and exclama¬ 
tions had to be gone over again, for Madame 
LaLanne did not know that her husband was 
still alive, and there was a great deal of agita¬ 
tion and some more tears were shed—tears of 
joy and thankfulness for the great gifts that 
this holy season was bringing to the widow 
and orphan. 

Betsy volunteered her share. “Major Gor- 




254 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


don says he is going to look out for Amiee’s 
father when he gets to France/’ she said as 
soon as she could be heard. “And if anybody 
can help him, Major Gordon will.” 

Jimmy was grinning broadly when he rose 
to go. He had his own Christmas packages 
in his pockets. He was plainly glad that his 
task was over. “I’ll have to be gettin’ over 
to see the mother,” he said, shaking hands 
all around with great heartiness. He paused 
on the threshold to cast a last look over the 
smiling group about the fire in the festive, 
green-decked room. He seemed well satis¬ 
fied with his survey. Then a flicker of another 
sort of fun came into his twinkling eyes. 
“Glad you girls like your Christmas boxes,” 
he flung back over his shoulder, and then he 
was gone. 

Betsy cuddled down beside Philip on the 
hearth-rug, with her shoulder against her 
mother’s knee, while she listened to the long 
story of Madame LaLanne’s wanderings and 
privations. The cozy fire crackled and the 
ornaments on the big tree sparkled in the 
radiance. The scents of balsam and pine 
breathed out the very aroma of the season. 
Peace and joy were at each one’s elbow. 



Jimmy Delaney’s Christmas Gifts 255 


Suddenly she looked across at Amiee, 
whose face was bright with happiness. 

“But why did you dig in the moonlight?” 
she asked abruptly. 

Amiee did not even start. “I had to get 
my christening mug and the silver goblets 
with the monogram on them out of the garden 
where I hid them when I came,” she said 
earnestly. “I kept them safely all the while 
we were coming to this America, though in 
great secrecy. I could not leave them behind 
when I was to go to Miss Willie’s home. 
They are to show who I am in case of need, 
and also to keep the fortune in the family. 
We have not lost those silver goblets through 
all the years since they were made.” 

Betsy gasped. “Was that why you made 
the garden and then threw down the snow¬ 
man?” she asked incredulously. 

Amiee nodded. Madame LaLanne was 
embracing her again. It was evident that the 
silver meant more to her than Betsy could 
guess. Betsy was silent while the talk went 
merrily on. She was thinking very hard. 

“And why did you go to Alandale?” she 
asked, suddenly turning to Amiee. 




256 


Betsy Hale Succeeds 


“ Because Jimmee Delanee told me of a 
French lady there, who did not become to be 
my mother,” Amiee replied. “He told me on 
the back of the Sahib camel when I rode.” 

Betsy sank back in her place again, thought¬ 
fully regarding the fire. 

“Isn’t it funny how things happen?” she 
said thoughtfully to Philip, who bent to 
catch her low tone. “We are going to leave 
after all, and Amiee will stay here with Miss 
Willie in the nice, mysterious old house. I 
wonder if the Nickleman will come up out of 
his well and talk to her?” 

Philip merely grunted. He was watching 
the leaping flames. Betsy’s proposed absence 
seemed to dampen his spirits. “Things are 
queer sometimes,” he admitted. 

Betsy was intent on her own thoughts. 
“And to think that I felt sure I’d find Amiee’s 
people for her,” she w^ent on, smiling into the 
blaze. “It’s all so different from what I 
expected. French war orphans aren’t always 
like they are in those library books.” 

Philip flashed his white teeth in a wide 
smile. “Sometimes they aren’t orphans at 
all,” he retorted. “It’s all different from 
what you think.” 



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